The Explosive Heart
by HyperFitched
Summary: When Katie's fiery temper causes her to lose her glamorous job she is forced to return home to work in her family's fireworks company. Her father sends her incognito to check out a new rival outfit - with explosive consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**So. Here I am again, and it's time for Part Two of my 'Hospital Stories' Collection. But please, I would prefer it if no more of you fell into life threatening comas so there doesn't have to be a part three. But joking aside, this story is being written for a lovely person called SJ who is in fact a beautiful and extremely talented writer in her own right. Its purpose is to entertain and to delight and to make her hours in a hospital room slightly less boring. If the rest of you enjoy it as well then that's just a bonus, and of course all your positive energies and well wishes are most welcome. They do make a difference. Feel the love…**

**I don't own Skins, but Katie and Effy own me. Oh yes they do.**

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1. Prologue – Return Of The Rage

Katie

I love my job. Don't get me wrong, it's a dirty, shallow, corrupt, nepotistic, bitchy, cutthroat, dog eat dog, full-on nasty business. In other words fucking perfect for me. I can smarm and charm with the best of them, but no one gets one over on Katie Fucking Fitch. I had worked bloody hard to get here, and I wasn't about to give it up for anyone. I'd worked hard in college, worked hard in uni, worked hard through shitty internships, and worked my way up from my first lowly jobs. And now it was time for pay off. Here I was assisting with the organisation of one of the biggest runway shows in Paris fashion week. Hobnobbing with designers, photographers, magazine people, celebrities and all kinds of fabulous gorgeous things. I loved the buzz of it, the excitement, the pressure. I loved helping people's creative visions become practical reality. My phone and my iPad practically never left my hands, and every minute was a new challenge to be defeated and subjugated to the rule of Katie Fitch.

There was only one downside. The models. I fucking hate models. I'm five foot three. Imagine how I feel surrounded by all these eight foot tall fucking monsters without a hint of a curve between them. I'm not jealous of their looks. I know how much fucking styling it takes to make them look that fabulous. Take all that away and they look pretty much like any other good-looking woman, albeit a freakishly tall and abnormally thin one. What I am jealous of is everyone else's interpretation of their looks, how everyone seems to think they're some kind of goddesses walking the earth, when all they are, are self-obsessed scrawny little fuckers, with the mental age of children.

Even my own sister seems to have fallen under their spell. I would never have guessed it. I invited her here because we needed extra people to help out with the show, and she never makes any money making her shitty little indie politico art films. I thought she would be able to just get on with the job without being sucked in by all the glamour. I mean yes, there are a lot of pretty girls here and Emily is as gay as a window, but she's always ranting on about how the fashion industry is responsible for ordinary women suffering from negative self image and all that kind of crap. I just assumed she would have an even worse opinion of the models than me, and wouldn't give any of them a second thought. But ever since the second she laid eyes on Naomi Diamond it's like she's been under a fucking spell.

I tried to warn her. Naomi Diamond is a peroxide blonde bombshell with captivating blue eyes that is being touted as the next big thing, and everyone is clamouring to work with her. She has that slightly rough edge and bad girl image that has everyone in the fashion world drooling like Pavlov's dogs, and she just loves stirring things up. The fucking funny thing is that Naomi Diamond is a made up name. In a bizarre twist of fate her real fucking name is Naomi Campbell. I nearly pissed myself laughing for about five minutes when I heard that one. It was ok when Ems was just swooning from afar, but then Naomi started looking back, those ridiculous eyes flashing with lust whenever she saw my sister. I told Ems to stay away, that Diamond was only looking for a shag to keep up her edgy bisexual image. But Emily had stopped listening to me years ago, and when she had turned up at the breakfast meeting this morning with a stupid smug grin on her face, I knew they had fucking slept together.

Oh well. Too bad. It was Emily's loss. Or it would be when the stupid slag slept with someone else behind her back. Or in front of her face. Or tumbled out of a nightclub into the willing arms of the paparazzi with some new fuck toy on her arm. Cause that's what they do. Some photographer will come along, or someone with slightly more clout in the business than you and their knickers will be round their ankles faster than their fingers down their throats in the toilet after a meal.

But Emily had been floating round like an angel of love all day, and I supposed I should let her have her little illusion of happiness whilst it lasted. For my part, after many mistakes I had found myself a decent man from a world a thousand miles away from the industry. He worked for a small independent bakery back home in Greenwich in London. He was a down to earth guy who worked with his hands and made beautiful food, and as much as I loved the madness at work, I loved going home to him and leaving the crazies and all their drama behind. He was coming over to Paris for the day of the show, and then we were staying on for a few days for a little romantic break. I couldn't fucking wait.

But before that there was work to be done, and I had a rehearsal to organise.

"Has anybody seen Emily?" I yelled in the general direction of a gaggle of assistants.

"She's out on the terrace," replied one of the guys.

"What the fuck is she doing out on the terrace?" I snapped back, all to willing to shoot the messenger.

The guy didn't answer, but the blush that crept up his face told me he really didn't want to be the one to tell me what my sister was up to on the terrace.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I huffed, storming off.

Our show was being held in a very grand old Paris hotel, and the models' green room had a beautiful terrace that looked out over the street. I had specifically booked it that way so they could have somewhere to smoke their appetite suppressing cigarettes without having to wander off and get lost when I fucking needed them. I opened the doors to the room and marched straight over to the terrace, wrenching the French windows open with venom. Even in the open air it took a second or two to adjust to the cloud of smoke that hung around.

I looked to my right and through the sea of bodies I saw a girl I couldn't recall seeing before. Not that I was that surprised, they all start to look the same after a while. But this girl stood out somehow. She was smoking like all the others, but despite being perched perilously on the railings looking like she could fall at any moment, she exuded an unusual air of calm, like nothing could faze her. She was stunning, dark brown hair falling carelessly around her shoulders, and dark smoky make up accentuating her eyes. But it was when she turned to look at me that I nearly came undone. She had a deep blue penetrating stare that felt like it was dissecting me. Normally a person would glance away if they locked eyes with a stranger, and most models would have that hazy far away look that overtook them as they gazed over your shoulder to see if anyone more important had entered the room. But this girl didn't even blink. She cocked her head to one side and smirked at me. It was uncharacteristically unsettling. I am used to bossing people around. I am used to being in control, but this girl had taken my feet from under me.

She was dressed in a barely there dress with patterned fishnet tights and motorcycle boots. It was a fucking cliché of a look, but somehow on her it worked. In a room full of physically stunning woman obsessively competing to look the best, she looked like she just didn't care, and was all the more striking because of it. There was an intelligence and a curiosity in her eyes that I didn't often see around the girls that worked for us, and I found myself wondering who the fuck she was, and if she was new we should definitely arrange some shoots with her. All of a sudden her gaze flicked onto something behind me, her head cocked in the opposite direction and her grin grew slightly wider. I immediately span around, wanting to know what it was that could capture this mystery girl's attention.

I was greeted with the sight of my sister kissing Naomi Diamond, and prepared to unleash the full force of my wrath on her. She was supposed to be here to work, not to be snogging the clotheshorses. But there was something about the quality of the kiss that made me bite my tongue. Far from the disgusting face-sucking I had been expecting, it seemed unusually and quite beautifully tender, and I was almost loathe to interrupt. In the end I didn't have to as one of the runners came pounding breathlessly onto the terrace.

"There you are, Katie," she said with relief. "Alessandro is downstairs and he's insisting he simply _must_ see you now."

Emily broke away from the kiss at the mention of my name, and at least had the decency to look guilty, but it was Naomi's reaction that surprised me the most.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know I shouldn't be keeping you sister from her work. Please don't take it out on her. It was all my fault really, I just couldn't seem to let her go."

Emily looked sheepishly back at her. What the fuck? Emily doesn't do sheepish when it comes to girls. I rolled my eyes at her. She really was an idiot if she was going to let herself fall for this girl. Ok, so Diamond might be acting like a normal human being right now, but I knew from experience that it wouldn't fucking last.

"Come on, Ems," I said. "I need you on board with me."

She looked back at Naomi longingly, and the blonde reached out and touched her cheek.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" she said.

I thought Emily's face was going to explode at that, and I grabbed her hand and dragged her away before I had to add cleaning up splattered brain to my already lengthy list of tasks.

"Oh my God, she is so fucking amazing," swooned Emily as I marched her back along the corridor. I shook my head. She was too far gone. She was just going to have to learn it the hard way.

"Whatever," I said, and plastered on my fake smile for getting down to business.

Two days later and I was a caffeine fuelled hyper fashion machine. This was what I lived for – fucking Showtime. Those vital few minutes when bodies in space could determine the outcome of a whole season. Everyone was rushing around making the final preparations as if their lives depended on it, which if I had anything to do with it they would. All apart from my sister of course, who was drifting around like cupid had replaced his bow and arrow with a fucking machine gun and had riddled her body with bullets. Well tough, this was the biggest show of my life, and I didn't have the time to protect my sibling from shallow sexually voracious harpies in need of a pie or two. I was barking orders at two hapless dressers when I noticed someone else whose body language seemed to be in opposition to the frantic pace of the rest of the building. It was her again, the girl from the terrace. She was lounging in some big old leather armchair, legs slung casually over the side looking like she didn't give a fuck that this was the most important day of my life. Fucking models.

"Don't you have somewhere you're supposed to be?" I snarled at her. Normally a Katie Fitch snarl can strike terror into the hearts of even the strongest of men, but this bitch didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. She simply turned those destroyer beam eyes on me and looked slightly less bored. Then without a word she peeled herself slowly from the chair and stood up. Which was when the picture changed. It must be true that your perception of a person can alter your understanding of their physical presence. From her looks and her languidly elegant control of her body I had assumed she was one of the models, but when she stood up I was shocked to see how small she was. She couldn't have been much more than a couple of inches taller than me, and there was no way anyone would put her on a runway no matter how fabulous she looked. So who was she and what the fuck was she doing here? I didn't get the chance to find out, as she gave me a brief ironic smile and sauntered away from me. I could have followed her. I could have used my status, and demanded to know her identity, but somehow I remained rooted to the ground watching her elegant departure. She was infuriatingly graceful, her exit carrying all the qualities of a soft-focussed slo-mo scene from a movie, but happening for real in front of my eyes.

I was snapped from my trance by the voice of Petra, my PA.

"Katie, there's someone important here who needs to see you," she said.

"Who is it now?" I snapped at her as I whirled, but my sting was immediately neutralised when I saw the beaming face of my boyfriend Harry.

"I know you're busy, baby," he said, but I just wanted to see you and wish you luck before it all kicks off."

I rushed up to him and gave him a welcoming kiss. It felt good to feel his strong arms around me and to feel the tickle of his stubble against my cheek.

"Thank you, honey," I told him.

"You look beautiful," he replied.

"Hardly," I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "We're in the middle of fashion week's most glamorous runway show, and I know I look frazzled."

"You're still the most beautiful woman here," he smiled.

I loved the simplicity of him. I loved the way his voice could make me melt. I loved the way he charmed me. I loved the way he didn't know who anyone was. I could introduce him to the most famous and the most fabulous, and he would still greet them with the same open-hearted courtesy he greeted the customers in his shop. I loved his cheeky green eyes and his smile. I loved the way he always looked uncomfortable in a suit, like it's tiny confines were too small to contain his rugged charms. I loved the way he fed me cake.

But now was not the time to drift off into my comfortable alternative universe with Harry, there was work to be done.

"I've got to go, babes," I said apologetically.

"I know," he said softly, kissing my cheek. "I'll see you afterwards, yeah?"

I told Petra to give him an access all areas pass and told him to help himself to hospitality. I allowed myself thirty seconds to daydream about having time to ourselves in Paris, and then it was back to business. I stalked around backstage checking on all the frantic preparations that were taking place. I went front of house and checked on security and made sure the latest version of the guest list was in place. I had a final meeting with the production manager, to make sure all the multimedia elements of the show were in place. We had sound, lighting, live streaming, video and what I was promised was going to be the most amazing display of indoor pyrotechnics for the finale. I'd worked with Marcel on a few shows now and he always got the best people in to create the perfect environments in which to show off the clothes, which was what we were all here for in the end.

I was making my way back through the auditorium, almost ready to give front of house the clearance to start letting the audience in, when I saw the mystery brunette again. She was chatting to a guy in overalls who was doing the final safety checks on the dancing gas jets that we had surrounding the edge of the runway, and she looked like she was talking business. Once again she managed to throw all my expectations off track. I really never had her figured for a techie. All the techie girls had their own look, it was almost like a uniform. You could spot them a mile off, and you would certainly never mistake them for models. I'm not putting them down, they all worked incredibly hard and none of this so-called glamour could function without them, but their lives and their personalities operated in the background rather than the spotlight. This girl looked like she could own a room simply by walking into it.

Once again I stood there until Hannah the stage manager came up and handed me my walkie talkie and head set.

"Ten minutes until we open the house, time to clear the auditorium. Positions everyone," she shouted out to the room. "All yours, Katie. This is gonna be a stormer. Let's go kick some fashion ass."

Mystery girl had turned her head to listen to Hannah's announcement, and caught me blatantly staring. Well fuck her. She was always staring at me, she could have some of her own medicine. Casual as ever, she picked up her laptop and walked towards me without breaking gaze. For some reason I found myself holding my breath.

"So," I said, as much to try to get my lungs functioning again as because I had anything of worth to say to her, but she cut me off.

"Love to stay and chat," she smirked at me. "But I've got somewhere I'm supposed to be."

I watched her slink away again and let out a little laugh. She really didn't give a fuck, and I liked it. Bitch Katie would have had her sacked, and thrown out of the building for her arrogance, but it wasn't often that anyone stood up to me, and to be honest it gave me a bit of a thrill. She seemed like she would make a worthy adversary, and I made a mental note to find her out after the show. She had piqued my interest, but it would have to wait. All other considerations had to be cast aside before the rise of our new god. Ladies and gentlemen, it's Showtime….

There's nothing quite like it. The massive adrenalin rush of seeing all those months of hard work coming to fruition, and the constant hyper awareness of overseeing all departments to make sure that everything ran like clockwork. The incredible satisfaction, when the audience gasped and cheered. The smug feeling of looking on the front of house monitors and seeing all the right faces sitting in the front rows bringing kudos to the collections. This was the time when I could appreciate what the models did for us, when you saw them in their element out on the catwalk, and for those couple of minutes they really were the fantastic angels the outside world saw them for. The music was pumping, the light show was fantastic, and the videos artful but not too intrusive, framing the work without overwhelming it, and what we had seen of the pyro so far had been beautiful, silver jets of sparks counterpointed with golden flames shot out from metal pots, all choreographed with precision control, a living dancing medium that added an edge of danger to the proceedings. We had been promised something extra spectacular for the finale of the last collection, and because the show had been running brilliantly so far, I actually let myself relax enough to look forward to it. But not completely, it was nearly time for Alessandro's signature collection to show and I tore myself away from the banks of monitors to go backstage and personally make sure everything was running to plan.

The high pitched babble of the dressing room snapped into silence the minute the first people started to notice my presence. This was not a good sign. I looked at the bank of slightly terrified looking faces throwing glances between themselves as they tried to decide who would have the balls to tell me whatever bad news they were all hiding.

"What the fuck?" I said menacingly, but that only seemed to inspire more fearful silence.

Suddenly my sister came bursting through the door.

"She's not in the toilets," she said breathlessly.

"Who's not in the toilets?" I growled at her.

"They can't find Tamara," said Naomi Diamond, stepping protectively in front of Emily. I would have found it quite sweet if I wasn't on the verge of a fucking heart attack. Tamara Dickenson was supposed to be closing the show, the last girl to walk the runway wearing Alessandro's most outrageous creation. Normally I would have just sacked off the unprofessional bitch and given the opportunity to another girl, but Tamara was Alessandro's favourite and he had insisted she be the one to star in the finale.

"Which toilets did you check?" I asked Emily.

"All of them," she replied.

"I take it you've phoned her?" I asked Petra, whose reply was to hold up Tamara's phone dejectedly.

"Cunting McSodding Fuckbucket," I screamed before taking a deep breath and reigning myself back in. "Ok, everyone who is not directly involved in the last collection get out of here and search the kitchens, the stairwells, the bloody weights room and find the bitch. Diamond, you're on standby. If I'm not back here in ten minutes get her dressed."

A sea of bodies exploded from the room with me at their head. I headed straight for the hotel reception and demanded to be taken to the CCTV room. Given the amount of money and prestige we were pouring into this hotel, they were only too happy to oblige me. I had them rerun the footage from the past fifteen minutes and my eyes scanned impatiently over multiple screens searching for a glimpse of the elusive model.

"There! Stop! Go back," I cried at the operator, unsure of what I'd seen. He did as I asked, and there she was. It was indistinct and blurry, but it was definitely Tamara, slipping behind a doorway with a suspicious look on her face.

"Where is that?" I asked the guard.

He gave me directions and I was out of there before he'd even caught his breath. It was the floor above our show and I forgot about the lift and just ran up the stairs faster than you'd think was humanly possible for a girl in five inch heels. What the fuck did the stupid bitch think she was playing at? I could only think of two possibilities, drugs or fucking. I didn't give a toss what she did on her own time, and there was a time and a place for both, but this was not it. I wasn't going to let the selfish cunt ruin my show, no matter who her fucking best friend was. I would send her on looking fabulous of course, but once she had finished I would tear so many strips off her she'd end up with nothing but bones. As I approached the door of what turned out to be a fucking linen closet I could hear Tamara's girlish giggling. Ok, so fucking then. In a linen closet – classy. Whatever, I hope the stupid bitch gets Chlamydia. I wrenched the door open, and sure enough there was Tamara Cuntface with her hand down some guys trousers. But not just any guy. My guy. My Harry.

I've never been the shy retiring type. In fact when I was young I had a real problem controlling my temper, and all to often I lost it and began to lash out, not just verbally but physically too. All too often I became enveloped by this seething rage, and all too often it got me into trouble. But then during my early days in the industry, I had an amazing boss who turned out to be my mentor. She had the reputation for being one of those typically bitchtastic hardasses that everyone was afraid of, but she picked me out from a bunch of interns because she thought I had potential. She taught me that implied threat was so much more powerful than actual physical threat, and that people who were genuinely scary never actually had to prove it. And so I learned my lesson well, even though I had a fearsome reputation I was nowhere near the wild girl I was when I was younger, always eager to prove her point with her fists. But she was still in there, and so was the rage that boiled within her blood. I think to some extent we're all like that. Civilisation is only ever a veneer, and underneath the surface we remain unashamedly savage. I guess my veneer is just a little bit thinner than others. It burned to a crisp as I felt the flames of the rage overtake me. I grabbed Tamara by the hair and dragged her from the closet, and threw her roughly against the opposite wall.

"Katie, it's not what it looks…" came Harry's alarmed voice from behind me. A swift kick in the balls shut him up from finishing that particular cliché. I turned back towards Tamara, and suddenly there was a dark pounding in my head and all the world went red.


	2. Six Months Later

**So I finally got a day off work and this is the result. For the very wonderful SJ. Hope you enjoy it, hun.**

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2. Six Months Later

Katie

I suppose it's not the brightest idea to break the nose of your top designer's favourite model just before she's about to go onstage as the highlight of your show. If I'd slapped her I'd have probably gotten away with it, she did have her hands all over my boyfriend's cock after all. But restraint has never been one of my strongest features, and seeing her with Harry made me totally lose it. When the red mist descends it's like there's another person in my body, and that person loses all connection to logic till only the rage remains. The first punch sent her down and smashed her nose, but she was lucky that I didn't break a couple of her ribs. Lucky because the one person in the world who could get through to me when I was like that just happened to be in the building, and arrived on the scene just in time to stop me delivering a series of brutal kicks. I heard Emily's voice calling to me in twinspeak, our special language that only the two of us knew, and as always , she managed to pull me back from the edge.

When I came back from the bloodlust Tamara was slumped against a wall crying, Harry was writhing on the floor clutching his balls and there was blood on my hand. I looked up to find myself surrounded by a crowd of horrified looking people. Emily grabbed my hand and led me away from the scene. I could feel my body start shaking as soon as we were out of the public eye.

"What do I need to do?" said Emily, squeezing my hand.

"Go downstairs and make sure your girlfriend gets on stage," I said. "She needs to carry the finale."

"What about you?"

"I need to get some air," I said and headed out towards the street.

I think I knew in my heart that I had totally blown it. I had let my stupid fucking temper get the better of me, and I was going to pay the price. There had been too many witnesses seeing me about to kick the fucking shit out of a defenceless girl, and the gossip machine was probably already springing into action.

That was six months ago, the day I lost my job and became a pariah in the fashion world. I tried getting other work in the business, but no one would come within twelve feet of me. Tamara played it to the max of course, making herself out to be the innocent victim of my psychopathic rage, milking every bit of sympathy that she could and stirring everyone else up against me. The only person who took my side was Naomi Diamond. Tamara had been a huge rival of hers, and I got back into the show just in time to hear the massive round of applause Naomi got when she took her place on the runway. It catapulted her into the spotlight and she became the darling of Paris, getting much more lucrative and high profile contracts as a result. And far from being the slut that I'd imagined her to be, she had devoted herself to Emily. They were still together now, and even more stupidly in love than ever. Far from abandoning Ems for fame and fortune, she had taken her with her. Naomi had agreed to be in the video for some up and coming band, but only if they let Emily direct it. The thing had been a massive hit, and now Emily was being touted round the place as the hot new director everyone wants to know. She had gone forwards, I had gone backwards. No more Harry. No more posh London flat. Back in bloody Bristol and working for my Dad.

Could my life suck much more? Naomi had offered me work amongst her entourage, but my pride couldn't really stomach a pity contract from my sister's girlfriend. Plus there would be all the looks I'd get. I knew it would amuse Naomi no end that everyone was afraid of me, but I didn't want to be treated like a freak. So here I was far from the world I had known, doing marketing and promotion for Fitchtastic Fireworks, the family business. You tell people you work for a fireworks company, and they seem to think it's incredibly exciting and glamorous, but it's not.

It's dirty workshops and muddy fields. It's cutting and sticking and repetitive wiring and long dull hours. I guess in the old days of hand firing you could get off on the buzz of the risk, but like every fucking thing else, these days all the fun has been health and safetied out of existence. Everything is fired by computer, one man pressing a button once at the start of the show and that's it. Of course, like most technology, the possibilities that this opens up are limitless. The limits lie in the imagination of the user, and my Dad is no innovator. He sells out of the box displays to councils and events. He hit on a formula that works and by God is he sticking to it. He has a team of anonymous boys to do the grunt work, whilst he stays in the office and does the 'design'. I use that word loosely, cause I don't think he has had an original idea since 1999. He worked hard to get Bristol's millennium display, and he's been resting on his laurels ever since. Same fucking stuff, same predictable music – 1812 overture, Superman theme, Ride of the sodding Valkries, the latest X-Factor nonsense to appear contemporary, and if he's feeling particularly daring, or the client wants it, 'Firestarter' by the Prodigy. I fucking hate that track now, and I find it endlessly amusing that the rabble-rousing song has become the establishment's 'go to' track when they want to appear like they've got some fucking edge…as if.

I can't blame him, I suppose. It is really just a business to him, a way of making money and keeping his family secure. He has no interest in trying to be like those amazing French companies that do such mindblowing stuff around stadiums and architecture. Fitchtastic fireworks is what it is – family entertainment and not much else. I stared at the database on my screen and mentally geared myself up to call the people on my list, and try to sound enthusiastic about selling this shit. I could do it. I know I'm fucking good at what I do, but I just miss working with real creatives, people on the cutting edge of their profession. I missed the excitement of bring something genuinely thrilling and new into the public eye. Of course it's still lovely when you see a kid's face light up in wonder at the pretty lights in the sky. But me? I was totally fucking over brightly coloured explosives.

I took another mouthful of my coffee and picked up the phone in readiness, when my Dad came storming into the office with his face as red as a postbox, nearly bursting at the seams with anger.

"It's outrageous, that's what it is," he informed me. "It's a travesty, down right bleedin' criminal."

It took me several minutes for me to calm him down enough to reveal what it was that was so terrible. It turned out that the council had given the finale of the MayFest, one of our signature contracts, to another company. It didn't surprise me, MayFest was the first big arts event of the summer and brought a lot of people into the city. It was another example of Dad expecting everything to remain the same without him having to put in the effort.

"This wouldn't have happened if Dave had still been there," he complained.

He was probably right. Dave at Bristol Council Events office had been one of Dad's old cronies and they no doubt had some cosy little arrangement going that we got all of the big Bristol gigs, but as I had learned the hard way, you can't trust anyone but yourself and you have to constantly watch your back.

"They've got some new woman in," said Dad contemptuously. "I want you to ring her up and find out what the flippin' heck's going on over there."

I rolled my eyes, but did what he asked me anyway. It took me a while to get through. Trying to negotiate a council switchboard is like trying to find your way out of the Cretan Labyrinth, and I didn't have the new woman's name or direct line. I eventually reached a friendly young-sounding woman called Heather, who was quite helpful. Even though she wouldn't tell me the name of the company who had won the tender, she was happy to explain that the team had felt it was time to give the MayFest a new edgier approach that would appeal more to the younger generation, and the fresh contemporary feel of the modern city they were trying to promote.

I couldn't exactly argue with her, if that was what they were looking for we certainly didn't fit the bill. When I told Dad all this he went off on one again.

"But that's our contract," he insisted.

"No it isn't," I told him. "None of them _belong_ to us, even if we have had them for a while. We're going to have to work a lot harder. It's a recession. Budgets are being cut all over the place, we can't take anything for granted. We're going to have to fight to win the work that is there, not just expect it to fall into our lap."

"That's why I need you Katiekins," grinned Dad. "You'll help me sort this all out now that you're back, won't you love. Finger on the pulse and all that. Help me keep up with these modern trends."

"Sure I will Dad," I said.

I didn't really have the heart to tell him that me being back was only a temporary measure till I figured out what the fuck I was going to do with my life, and that being the heir apparent to Fitchtastic Fireworks was not where my dreams and ambitions lay.

A month and a half later I was stood in the middle of a large crowd down by the docks for the festival finale. Dad had insisted that we come down and check out the competition. He was convinced that they wouldn't amount to much, but I wasn't so sure. He had been asking about in the industry, but it was none of the obvious candidates, in fact nobody seemed to know who they were. Dad seemed to think this boded well, but I had a bad feeling about it. One thing I had learned in the fashion business, the unknown is always dangerous. That's why everyone there made it their business to know as much about their rivals as possible.

A floating stage had been built out into the river and a multi-levelled structure sat upon it where a big dance piece was going to be performed. As I listened to the buzz of the crowd around me, I looked past it, across to the other side of the river to some derelict land, where I could vaguely make out some racks of the cardboard mortar tubes the pyro company would fire their shells from. It looked like they had an impressive amount of material at least, but gross weight of explosives does not a display make, and I wondered what tricks they had up their sleeves that convinced the council they were more suitable for the rebranding of the event. Still, I would have to wait until after the dance piece to find out, and that was something I was actually interested in. The company had been formed by a local choreographer called Maxxie Oliver who had paid his dues in the commercial theatre in London, but had come back home to make a space where he could create his own work. I'd heard they were really good, and had hooked up with some circus people to take the work into three dimensions, which accounted for the big structure. There was a cheer as the music started and the lights came up over the water.

The piece was called 'Evolution' and the first shock was that the dancers emerged from the river itself, before staggering around unsteadily as if they were still trying to get used to the feeling of solid land. The movement itself was quirky and amusing easily drawing in the crowd, even those who weren't particularly dance literate, and the dancers conquered their inexperience and learned how to move at floor level. They became increasingly triumphant, and began a complex series of interactions with risk taking jumps and lifts and it was particularly joyful to watch. You could feel the excitement in the audience as the movement and the music heightened together towards some kind of inevitable climax, but none of us were expecting what happened next. Half way through a bar, a loud cinematic boom interrupted the soundtrack. At the same instant, green jets of sparks shot out horizontally from the edge of the stage, illuminating the water and radically changing the environment of the piece. The audience gasped as the dancers froze into a tableau, but we barely had time to catch our breath, before a series of explosions just below the surface ran along the river from left to right behind the stage, sending jets of water flying into the air. More spark streams erupted from the stage edge and the dancers shifted their shape in reaction to each pyrotechnic event, which was choreographed perfectly to the music.

As a representation of the cataclysmic events that drive evolution, it was startlingly effective and when the chaos died down, the dancers made the decision to explore the structure. Once again they were uncertain, having entered a new environment, and they experimented along the lower levels finding their way again. This time they quickly gained more skill and we saw them climbing, swinging and jumping between levels, making their mark on their new place in the world. Blue flares started to ignite around the stage that they had vacated, creating an eerie light and billowing smoke, that the lighting designer punctuated with tight horizontal beams. Across the river the pyro team set off a series if mines from the roof of one of the old buildings, low bursting cluster fireworks in blue and red that swirled around the sky behind the stage. The dancers reacted to these events with caution, but were not so fearful as before, as if they were learning to understand their environment and the forces that controlled it. It was a beautiful marriage of images that blended the spectacle of the pyro and the dexterity of the movement perfectly to create a genuinely thrilling moment.

The pyro died down again and the performers moved even higher, this time controlled their new destination with even more confidence and speed. Their skills were incredible, and the way they moved at height had several people's hearts in their mouths. All around me I could hear people jabbering away excitedly, and raising their phones into the air hoping to capture a little piece of the excitement. Dancers began to leap freefall into what was obviously a concealed safety net or crash mat of some sort concealed within the structure, only to reappear moments later, pulled back into the sky counterbalanced by another performer jumping with a harness from the top. It was impressive stuff, but I got a knot in my stomach thinking about what was to come. These people were clever, and there was no way they were done yet.

A group of three dancers made their way towards the summit of the structure, as a low, almost subsonic foreboding rumble of bass oozed it's way out of the speakers. The group achieved their goal but just as they raised their fists in triumph, a massive jet of red sparks erupted right next to them, sending them tumbling back down the structure. Or at least that's how it seemed. There was an eruption of astonished swearing and screaming amongst the audience around me, but although it looked as though the performers were in genuine danger, I knew the pyro had been placed on a structure behind the structure to keep a safe working distance, and that the seemingly chaotic falls were inch perfect choreography from the dancers. More red gerbs ignited all around them, but this time they held their ground and began to climb the structure again, presenting a united force against the dangers that threatened to overwhelm them. I smiled to myself as I anticipated the next move. It was an easy trick, but it was a clever use of material. The red fireworks were a type that changed colour after about forty seconds, and as the dancers sent their metaphorical energy towards the jet it morphed into gold, as if they had been able to control the event. The dancers broke away from each other, each one moving to control a different stream of sparks. As each gerb in turn changed colour it looked like the dancer nearest to it was making it happen. They had it timed pretty near perfectly, and although fireworks are never one hundred perfect predictable it certainly created the right effect. The dancers began to move again, and a stunningly clever series of timed ignitions made it appear that they were now in complete control of their environment, raising flames and explosions apparently at whim. Suddenly it seemed like the whole of the structure and the land and water around it was ablaze in a beautiful chaos. Roman candles dance around the opposite shore, synchronised in colour and sound, jets of water began erupting from the stage lit to create liquid rainbows, and the performers danced in the middle of it all, looking like they were about to be engulfed in their own creation.

It was simply stunning. Even though I understood the mechanics behind how it had been created, it still took my fucking breath away. There was no denying the skill of Maxxie's dancers, but whoever had designed that pyro was a fucking genius. Not only did he create something fucking gorgeous, intricate and artistic, he was doing it around performers and water in split second interaction without overwhelming the piece he was trying to support. We had often incorporated a little bit of pyro into the runway shows, but this was a different level altogether. The performance ended with all the performers aloft on the highest parts of the structure, as a burst of small calibre shells lit up the sky in exploding spheres of blue and red behind them, and the crowd whooped and cheered and shouted their approval. As the dancers took their bows, the only person without a massive smile on their face was the muscular figure of my father, who was frowning with his arms folded resolutely across his chest.

"Well that was all very pretty I suppose," he admitted grudgingly. "But it's hardly a festival ending finale display, was it?"

Oh Dad, I sighed inwardly, as he couldn't see what was right in front of his face. Apart from the last burst of shells, all of the material that had been used in the show had been by necessity been low level and more theatrical types of pyro. Even in the darkness, I had managed to make out many more racks of tubes that would fire the high bursting aerial material for a larger scale display. The music had continued through out the curtain calls, and the dancers had spread their arms forward to acknowledge the front of house sound and lighting crew. They then turned and gestured back across the river to where the pyro team were based, and the music shifted to a haunting echoey piano. The lights dropped out on the structure, and in their place a line of yellow flares ignited on the opposite shore. More gold and yellow flares started to appear around the structure of the buildings behind them, illuminating windows and delineating the contours of the roof until they had created an entire landscape out of light and shadow. Small bursts of electronic sounds within the track were echoed with brief bursts of single shot candles sending white jets into the sky. A synth line started to dance across the melody and was met with multi-shot candles which sent their payload slightly higher towards the heavens, before bursting into showers of glittering green which reflected back off the surface of the water. Each explosion matched the development of the music and it was quite understatedly beautiful, but I felt my heart tighten as I recognised a build up in the pattern of the beats coming that if they were headed where I thought they were headed… oh fuck me.

Seconds later I was proved right as a facemeltingly filthy dubstep bass ripped through the air and the night sky was saturated with noise and colour. The crowd gasped and then cheered wildly, and once again I was blown away by just how fucking good the design was with events following perfectly the complex rhythms of the track. The music dipped back down to the piano and a waterfall of diamond white sparks tumbled down the side of the building, punctuated by silver comet mines shooting up from below to meet them. The drums built again, but this time the crowd knew what to expect knew what to expect. They roared as the bass kicked in again and a bank of reds and oranges took over the darkness high above. I couldn't remember the last time I had been genuinely excited by a pyro display, but my heart was beating slightly faster as the track hit its climax. Had they hit their peak too soon I wondered. Surely they couldn't keep this up for another six minutes.

I thought I'd been right when classical sounding strings started coming in over the beat. So they'd had their unconventional beginning and now it was back to the usual fare. But I was fucking wrong again. The strings began to repeat in a loop and a woman's voice cut in rhythmically across them. What the fuck? She was rapping. In French! The beat kicked in and the sky went wild again. I don't know what the fuck she was on about, but I knew she sounded fucking angry about it. The grandeur of the strings, and the noise of the pyro and the very real emotion evident in the rapper's voice started to change the very nature of the event. Instead of being just passive spectacle, I could feel the energy of everyone around me getting drawn deeper in. They started bobbing their heads along with the beat, massive smiles on their faces as they became increasingly drunk on the heady cocktail of noise and light and explosive percussion. My ears pricked up as the strings mixed seamlessly into a tune I recognised. It was a tune from the soundtrack to Amelie, its traditional Parisian melodies calming the atmosphere as the level of the pyro once again dipped down to a subtler flavour. Ok, so it was still a long way from the mainstream movie tracks that my Dad used, but at least it was something more recognisable.

Until a voiceover in English played over the track. "Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave." And then the sodding drum and bass kicked in. And the artist behind all this started painting his pictures in the sky. For that's what this was, it was fucking art. Layers of colour at different levels as gold palm shells rained down through them. The melodies of the tune were transformed by the beats and the bass into something truly alive, and Bristol was being transformed into somewhere more magical as its clear dark sky erupted with life. I don't think I'd ever seen people dancing at a fireworks display before, but all around me people started jumping around. This wasn't a display, it was a fucking party, and we were all invited. I caught the traces of two large calibre shells as they rose even higher than the rest, following them up, knowing they would be the finale of the show. I watched the massive bursts of gold as they filled almost my entire eyeline. There was a final gasp from the crowd, and then a moment's silence as they processed the fact that it was over. The eruption of sound that followed was more like that following the arrival of a rock star or a winning goal than anything else. Even the people who knew nothing about pyro knew that they had witnessed something special, but I was fucking gobsmacked. I found myself cheering along every bit as enthusiastically as my neighbours, despite the death glare I was receiving from my Dad. I could understand him, I suppose. If this was the competition, we were screwed.

"We have to find out who's behind this," said Dad, a serious expression on his face. I know he'd been expecting some ramshackle excuse for an outfit, so I knew he would have been shaken by the quality of what we'd just seen, even if he was scornful of their style.

"I'll see what I can find out," I said, and headed towards the front of the crowd, more for an excuse to get away from him, rather than any genuine desire to sneak on the other company. What I really wanted was the excuse to mingle with the crowd and enjoy the afterbuzz without Rob breathing down my neck. I was cut a lucky break when I spotted Pandora, a friend of Emily's from college amongst the performers. Back then she had been notorious for her wildly eccentric form of dancing. It was nice to see that someone had managed to harness that untamed energy into something creative.

"Katie," she yelled excitedly as I approached. I hadn't seen her for about three years, but Pandora was everybody's best friend, whether she knew them well or not.

"Great show, Pandora," I told her.

"Bloomin' bonkers wasn't it?" she beamed back at me. "I flippin' loved dancing around in all them pyros."

"Yeah, that shit was cool," I said, feigning nonchalance. "Who did all that stuff for you?"

"Oh they're brilliant," she replied. "They're called 'Le Coeur Explosif'."

"They're French?" I asked.

That would explain a few things. Their technical brilliance, their avant-garde style, the French music. It was also good because it probably meant that this was a one-off, and they probably wouldn't be working in Bristol again anytime soon, and wouldn't be a problem for us.

"Oh no, they're from Bristol," enthused Pandora. "But a couple of them are French. Or at least they speak French. There's this one boy Thomas, and he's a complete blinkin' dreamboat. I totally want to get into his pants for a bit of surf and turf. How's Emily?"

"She's pretty good," I said adjusting to Pandora's non sequiteur. "She's getting paid to make films now, and she's got herself a seriously fit girlfriend."

"That's whizzer!" exclaimed Panda. "There's a whacker big party down the old library after this. You should get her to come down."

"I think she's in Berlin this week," I muttered. "She travels a lot these days."

"Bummer," said Panda, not looking remotely bummed out. "But you should come anyway. I reckon everyone's gonna go proper mental."

I weighed up my options. Go home and listen to Dad complaining, or go and get pleasantly fucked off my head at the end of festival party, and maybe even get a shag. It wasn't even a decision. It had been way too long since I'd had any decent fun.

"Count me in," I said.

.

.

**The drum and bass remix of Amelie exists and if you google Freear on Soundcloud you can download it for free, you lucky, lucky people.**


	3. Liquid Mercury

3. Liquid Mercury

Katie

The Old Library was exactly what it said on the tin, an old library that had been housed in a grandiose building, a remnant of Bristol's shameful past at the centre of the slave trade. The books had long since moved on, and the place was now a multi-use cultural centre that held different events, but it was a great place to throw a party. There were several different floors that could house different music and chill out spaces, and whoever had done the décor for this night had done a fantastic job. As I felt the ever-present bass vibrating through my bones, it reminded me of when we were younger, when we would party in churches, warehouses, railway tunnels, anywhere we could find really. And even though I had grown used to the flashy high-end parties of the fashion scene, my heart had never really left the grimy playgrounds of my youth. I was wildly overdressed, of course, not that I hadn't been back in the day, but now my designer copies had been replaced by the real thing. Most of the girls here were arty types, and much more casually dressed so I stood out as an oddity in their midst. But I didn't care, I had always loved being the centre of attention, and I'd been drawing admiring looks from quite a few of the boys. I was keeping my distance for now. Not that I wasn't up for getting laid tonight, but better to keep them hungry until I'd compared the talent and decided which one of them was going to be lucky enough to get a piece of Fitch for the night.

I wandered through the building, soaking up the sounds and occasionally bumping into old friends and acquaintances with whom to pass a moment of time. For the first time in ages I actually thought it was nice to be back. Someone had sorted me out with a pill, and I was enjoying the heightened sensation and the fluffy feeling of goodwill towards the rest of the world. I didn't stay still for long, prowling restlessly throughout the different levels and taking in all the sights and sounds as the drug worked its magic in my blood. I wandered onto the top floor and felt the heat from the dancing bodies hit me as soon as I opened the door. The music had some kind of Latin vibe mixed into the beats, and it caught my attention. For some reason (probably the drugs, but who cares) it felt deliciously sexy, and I decided it was time to stay and dance for a while. I edged forward to the periphery of the molten crowd, and swayed lightly for a few minutes, working myself up to plunging in and getting lost in their fluid embrace.

I locked eyes with a sweet looking blonde haired guy, wearing a tight T-shirt and baggy jeans. I gave him a quick once over, and he twirled obligingly to give me a better look. I came to a quick conclusion – definitely fuckable, and cheeky with it. He raised his eyebrows at me as if asking my opinion, arms spread out and open and awaiting my judgement. I liked his style, instead of muscling in on me he was letting me have the control. I grinned at him in approval, and he grinned back. He was definitely the cutest thing I'd seen all night, and if he didn't turn out to be an asshole it was pretty much game on. Of course, I wasn't going to make it to easy for him so I momentarily glanced away, looking over his shoulder and scanning the rest of the crowd. But a moment was all it took to forget him as my vision snapped to attention at the sight of a dancing figure in the centre of the room. It was as if someone had switched on a powerful electro magnet, and I was made of nothing but iron. There was no conscious thought behind the steps that I took forward, I simply had to move. Blonde boy thought I was heading towards him and opened his mouth to speak, but I brushed past him without a second glance as I zoned in on the object of my fascination.

It was her. The mystery girl from Paris. The not-model who was more effortlessly beautiful than any of the girls we'd paid to be professionally gorgeous. What the fuck was she doing here in Bristol? Was she somehow being paid to pop up at different moments in my life and randomly distract me? She was dancing on her own, eyes closed and arms raised above her head, looking totally lost in the music. She looked sexy as fuck, but it really didn't seem as if she cared what anyone else thought of her. If she did, she would have opened her eyes and caught me staring at her as if she was the first human being I'd seen after years of being lost on a desert island. Not that I would have minded being lost on a desert island with her. Again, what the fuck Katie? I shook my head and tried to clear my mind of her, but it didn't work. Just like back in Paris, she seemed to have the ability to stop the world around her and capture my complete attention. A desperate longing for knowledge overtook me, as powerful as a thirst. I _had_ to know who she was, and why her very presence sent me into meltdown. But my stupid legs stopped shy of my target. I could hardly march up to her, interrupt her dancing and demand answers. Besides, why would I want to interrupt her dancing? Why would anyone want to disturb that sultry liquid mercury of motion. I looked around at the hungry sets of eyes that surrounded her. It seemed that plenty of people would have loved to have interrupted her, to intrude their own clumsy movements against her own. She must have been able to sense the desire that charged the air around her, but still she didn't give a fuck. I loved that she didn't give a fuck.

Suddenly her eyes flicked open, and I gasped as I was reminded of the impossible depths of their blue. She smirked to herself as she took in the hopes of the willing sinners around her, each of them ready to throw themselves at her feet in an instant given the slightest encouragement. But none was forthcoming. I got the impression that she thought them fools. I knew I should have moved out her vision before she spotted me, averted my eyes before she caught me staring and lumped me in with the rest of the idiot moths that flickered around her cool addictive flame. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink. I stared at her like a baby fascinated by a mobile, enraptured by colour and movement it was too young to understand. And so I stood, open and vulnerable, waiting to be cut down by her disdain like all the rest. Because she didn't give a fuck about anything, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give a fuck about me.

But then the impossible happened. The moment those killer eyes landed on me they lit up with recognition, and her smirk transformed into a smile. I cursed the fact that I'd necked that whole pill in one go instead of just testing the water with a cheeky half, as it suddenly felt like my liquid centre had just cracked open like a throat sweet and now warm goo was just trickling through me as my limbs turned to jelly. The fact that she hadn't forgotten me filled my heart with a ridiculous euphoria, and I just wanted to hug everyone around me so I could share my happiness. Ok, I knew I had to be high, cause this was not the Katie Fitch that used to strike terror into the very bones of her subordinates. This was not cool at all, but somehow I couldn't stop my stupid grin from growing so wide I was convinced it was going to split my cheeks in two. It's ok Katie, I told myself, you're fucking wasted. This chick is not some kind of ethereal superhuman. She is just a pretty girl who knows how to work a crowd. So what if you make a fool of yourself tonight? No one will remember it tomorrow. I closed my eyes and snapped my gaze away from mystery chick, even though it felt like some kind of physical effort to do so. I glanced around at my fellow sailors in the sea of love, and saw that the wind had carried us all in the same direction. Shipshape and Bristol Fashion? Nah, we were Shitfaced and Bristol Fashion – all fucked up and three sheets to the wind.

When I looked back ol' Blue-eyes was still smiling at me, and I put my hand over my face to stifle a giggle. In my former life I'd met rock gods, football players and movie stars with aplomb and yet here I was, spazzing out over some girl I didn't even know. And yet somehow, I wanted her approval more than anything else in the world right now. I wanted to have made an impression. I wanted her to give a fuck, if only for a moment. With the tiniest inflection of her head, she invited me to join her on the floor. It felt like my veins were running with paraffin and she had just tossed over a match. Yes motherfuckers that's me Katie Fitch, and I am invited. The coolest fucking woman on the planet wants to dance with me, and I didn't even have to try.

I sashayed over there, suddenly full of chemically assisted confidence, and started moving next to her. She didn't say anything. Of course she didn't say anything, but the charcoal framed pools of blazing blue welcomed me in, and she began to match my moves with her own. Fuck this was good. We were hot and we knew it, and pretty soon every boy in the place was going to be drooling and dreaming over us. She was a beautiful dancer, and I wondered if she was a performer of some kind, but I couldn't be bothered to ask. Trying to shout to her over the tunes would only have disrupted the perfection of the moment. For the first time since I lost my job, and was perfectly and truly happy, and I didn't want to mess with that for anything. I knew it was only temporary, and that tomorrow would bring the same old crap tumbling down into my life again. But that was all the more reason for just letting the moment be.

In some kind of unspoken agreement, we both began to amp things up a little, our dance becoming a little more suggestive as we moved around each other, dipping low and daring each other into sexy moves. We weren't touching, and yet we slowly began to edge closer together, and synchronised our bodies till it looked like we were loaded with filthy intent. It is true that the power of suggestion can be much more powerful than anything too obvious, cause I could fucking feel the heat rising around us. I turned around so my back was slithering just centimetres from her front, and I saw blonde boy with his mouth hanging wide open. I winked at him, and then shut him out again, closing my eyes and letting myself anticipate mystery girl's undulations by instinct alone. It was brilliant. It felt so fucking natural dancing with her, it was almost like dancing with Emily. The same kind of intuitive understanding. I smiled to myself at the memory, me and Ems dancing together to dirty basslines in even dirtier dives to wind up boys for me and girls for her, until our horny teenage asses could pick out the cream of the crop. But the longer I danced with mystery girl, the less I seemed to care about anyone outside of our duet. Her attitude to seemed to be rubbing off on me. The dance stopped being a performance and became an experience. The heat and noise and light began to form a comforting cocoon around us, blocking out the rest of the party. This was no longer a showcase for interested parties. This was all about me, and I didn't give a fuck either.

Until she touched me. It was the lightest of touches, the tiniest grazing of her hands against my hips, but it felt like I'd taken an adrenalin shot to the heart. Without asking any kind of permission from my brain, my body sank back against her and our movements became even more entwined. I felt some of her hair tickle the side of my neck, and the muscles in my back twitched where the soft roundness of her breasts pressed into them. I looked down at her pale slender fingers, which were now dancing across the tops of my thighs, and suddenly I gave a fuck alright. I gave a very large fuck indeed. Calm down Katie, I told myself. Girls dance like this with each other all the time. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean it's happening again. I breathed slowly in an attempt to regain my equilibrium. I needed to relax and enjoy the moment. It was just a bit of munted fun after all. And it seemed my theory was correct as she made no attempt to escalate the contact. There was no wandering of hands, there was no kissing of my neck (even though my brainless head had rolled to one side of its own accord, exposing my flesh just on the off chance she wanted to take advantage of it). It's just a dance Katie, I repeated as I tried to slow down the hammering of my heart that the kiss of her breath across my bare shoulder was inspiring, it's just a dance.

I had almost managed it when, a slender arm snaked its way across my belly pulling me tighter to her, and the inside of my chest was treated to more erratic drumming than a stone circle at solstice filled with bongo playing stoners. I was exhilarated and alarmed at the same time. I hadn't felt anything like this since… I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the memory. Don't fucking go there now. Besides, this is nothing like that. It's just a fucking dance. The DJ must have changed without us realising it, because suddenly the music seemed much slower. Mystery girl span me round to face her, one arm still wrapped around my waist and the other draped lazily across my shoulders. The lights flashed briefly to a brighter setting, and I could see she was smiling the smile of the beatifically wrecked. Her brain was on holiday and her movement was being driven from a place that was far more deeply buried within. Even though we swayed against each other like lovers, I could tell she was lost within her own little world. Her top hand lifted from her shoulder and ran through her own hair, dragging itself down her face and neck, until it slid down my side and rested on my bum. She was bombed and seeking tactile experience, and she didn't much care whether it came from me, or from her own slender fingers. I let one of my own hands follow the same path and the reaction was almost identical, she rolled her head against the sensation and let out a contented sigh. Whatever she had taken was hitting her full throttle now, and she began to rub her cheek against my cheek. It wasn't sexual, at least I don't think it was for her, just the wasted need for physical exploration. But me, it was driving fucking crazy.

I suppose I should have stopped it. Relinquished my hold and slipped away into the night before things got out of hand, but who was I trying to kid? I hadn't had a shag in ages and this girl was starting to seriously turn me on. I was going to hang on to this sensation for as long as I possibly could. I let my hands start to travel slowly across her body. Up and down her back, across the curve of her ass, and down the sides of her legs. She didn't reject me, in fact she welcomed each new sensation I offered her, rippling her body against my touch with the same fluid grace she'd shown when dancing on her own. She raised her arms above her head again, showing more of herself to me, and fuck me, she was just too damn gorgeous for me not to accept the invitation. I traced the contours of her jaw, and then slid my fingers down her neck to explore the rich paradise of her shoulders and her collarbone. I raised my hands up to her elevated wrists, then dragged my nails down the sides of her bare arms. She let out a little moan and let her arms fall round my neck again. We danced slow and close for a while, our hips starting to bump against each other with increasing frequency, and I started getting tingles in all the wrong places. I knew I was setting myself up for a fall, but somehow I just couldn't do the sensible thing, it felt too good to be this close to her, and ever since she'd touched me there hadn't been another soul in the room.

The music changed to a faster beat, and we slid away from each other a little, but still maintaining contact, my fingers trailing up and down the sides of her arms, and her hands still clasped firmly round my bum. She still had her fucking eyes shut, and I willed her to open them, so I could at least try and gauge if this silky mobile embrace was having any effect on her. Her hands went above her head again, and she started to thrust her hips a little harder against my own. Fuck it, I couldn't take much more of this, I had to fucking know. Once again I reached up for her and dragged my nails down her left arm, but this time I didn't stop until I had traversed the curve of her shoulder and let my fingertips graze lightly over her breast. My lungs seized as I realised that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that her nipple was erect. In the same moment her eyes shot open, but the blue in her irises had practically disappeared to be replaced by the massive darkness of her pupils. So was it drugs or lust? Oh please God, let it be lust. Or both…

She shot an arm around my waist and yanked me closer to her, twisting her hips until our thighs were intertwined. I was still struggling for breath as she started to move against me. She was still pulsing along with the music, but each pulse pushed her leg against my clit, and the burn went all the way up to my stomach. I shoved my hands up into the delicious mess of her hair, and gazed into her eyes with as much intent and focus as my own drug-addled brain would allow me. She didn't flinch or turn away. She simply stared back at me with those beautiful dark eyes. I remembered the way she had held her ground against me back in Paris. Had I finally met my match? Only one way to find out.

I pulled her closer until her lips met mine, and felt her respond almost immediately, opening her mouth and tilting her head to the side. I pounced on her delicate invitation, deepening the kiss, the taste of her sweet against my tongue. It was a sumptuous feast of a kiss, a Hollywood kiss that sent its repercussions stinging through my whole body. The kind of kiss that leaves you shattered and breathless even though you never want it to end. A hurricane kiss that sweeps everything away in its path. A monumental amnesiac kiss that makes you forget the person you were before your lips had danced together, and turned you simply into the person who was kissing this girl, and who wanted to carry on kissing this girl for as long as humanly possible. Until she pulled away, and every fibre in my body cried out at the loss of her. She looked shocked, and muttered something that sounded like 'murder'.

"Murder?" I questioned her, forcing a laugh to spill from her lips. It was a beautiful laugh, and it made me want to kiss her again, and for the rest of the night.

"Merde," she repeated, smiling sheepishly.

"You're French?" I said, suddenly recalling her speaking to the French technician. I had been so tuned in to hearing French in Paris I hadn't even noticed.

"Half," she said. "My Dad is English."

She spoke English like a native, but there was the tiniest hint of an accent that sent shivers down my spine, until I realised what she had said in the first place.

"Why shit?" I asked her, it was not the kind of response you would hope for when you've just had the kiss of your life.

She was still holding me, and it took her a few seconds to answer.

"I can't really do this," she said, her eyes full of regret. "I kind of have a boyfriend."

Of course she did. Of course a woman that beautiful would have a fucking boyfriend. The disappointment shook me like an angry tiger, and I felt shredded in its wake.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking genuinely contrite. "I didn't expect it to get out of hand like that. I thought you were straight."

Jesus Christ girl, so did I, but the mess in my knickers was telling me different.

"So where is he now? The boyfriend?" I asked.

She shrugged in a way that only the French can, and despite myself it made me smile.

"So he doesn't mind you wandering off and dancing with strangers?" I said.

"I think he's learned not to," she said. "He doesn't really dance, and I love to dance. I kind of need it."

"So you just go round seducing hapless strangers?" I said, though my voice carried no venom. For some reason I was finding it impossible to be angry with her, possibly because she was still standing far too close for someone who didn't want to be with me.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised again. "I really didn't mean to lead you on. I thought it would be safe. If you dance with a guy they always want something to happen at the end of it, but with a girl it's different… usually."

"Maybe you should try being a little less fucking sexy when you dance," I suggested.

At least she had the grace to look a little guilty.

"I really am sorry," she started to apologise again.

"I get it," I said. "You're straight, and you just wanted a little innocent fun."

So why have you still got your arms around my neck, I wondered. Why are you still letting me hold your beautiful face in my hands? And why is there such mischief in your eyes?

"Evidently not so innocent or so straight," she smirked at me.

"How so?"

"I kissed you back," she said.

"Yes you did," I replied, feeling incredibly smug as the memory washed over me.

"But I still can't…" she smiled at me sadly.

"I know," I said, although my heart was screaming like a petulant toddler.

"Not that I.. I mean if I wasn't with…" she muttered. "I totally would."

"You don't have to sugar coat it for me, Babes," I said. "Let's chalk it up to the heat of the moment. You know, I'm straight too. I've only ever been with one other girl."

"What happened?"

"She was a cheating cunt," I spat with uncensored ferocity.

"Wow," said mystery girl, stepping back from me for the first time, but her fingers still lingered around my hands. "I don't want to be a cheating cunt."

"I don't want you to be either," I told her. "I'm glad you stopped us. I actually respect you for that."

"So do we get to be friends?" she asked hesitantly.

"We can try," I replied.

"I'm Effy," she smiled and kissed the back of my hand. "Enchanté."

"Nice to meet you too," I said. "I'm Katie."

She pulled me back into a platonic embrace, and I fought hard to crush the waves of desire that shook me. I could get over it. She was just a girl. Though I could fucking kill for a line of coke and a fag right now. Effy pulled away from me and smiled as if she was reading my mind.

"Fancy a line?" she said.


	4. A Girl Called Katie

**As I write SJ is very sick, so she needs all the thoughts you can send her. I decided to keep writing this story in the hope that she gets well enough to read it soon. Love you, girl.**

**A massive thanks must go out to Blueeyedfrog for being my French consultant here and helping me with the fact that Effy thinks in two languages. If you are not reading her story 'Some People Have Real Problems', then you should. That is all. For those of you who do not speak French, the original English references are at the bottom of the chapter.**

**.**

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4. A Girl Called Katie

Effy

My eyelids were sticky. It was a struggle to pry them open. No surprises there then. Just the product of another night of getting monumentally fucked up. But this time it was different. Yesterday had been a good, good day and I had cause for celebration. There was a reason to get high, rather than just the absence of a reason not to. Instead of the usual emptiness, I felt a warm glow of satisfaction inside. I had achieved something, and I knew that it was good. Amidst all of my uncertainties, that was the one thing I felt sure of. In my head I could see pictures in the sky, and in my heart I could feel the percussive beat of every explosion. The rest was merely mathematics. It had been my first large-scale event under my own name, and the roar that had surrounded me at the end of it had told me that the crowd had accepted us. They were not afraid of the new. We had the chance to be beautiful.

It had all been down to Maxxie really. It had been his idea to integrate pyro with his dance piece, and he'd asked me cause he knew my brother. After that it had been easy to expand the concept, and persuade the new arts woman at the council to give us the finale. She had taken over from some bloke who had been there forever, and she wanted to make her mark with something new and exciting. We were certainly new, and last night we had proved we were exciting. And that was what I wanted. I had left France because I wanted to prove something, and the way the show had gone had made me start to think it might be possible. The thought of it made me smile, immediately followed by the realisation that I was smiling against skin.

I was somewhere in space and time, and maybe I should have been attempting to identify where and when, but my still fuzzy consciousness decided to focus its limited resources on the fact that I was wrapped around a body. That was not so unusual. J'ai passé tellement de temps en noeuds autour de corps étranges en mon temps. But things were supposed to be different now. There was only supposed to be one body, and this was not it. _My_ body, the one that was allowed, was large and angular and smelt of boy. This body was its polar opposite. This was not my body. This body was small, and wonderfully curvaceous. And the smell… The cocktail of her perfume, and just of _her_ was dizzyingly intoxicating, and for several sweet moments I did nothing but breathe her in, not caring at all that this was not my body.

Once upon a time this wouldn't have mattered at all, but I had chosen to enter a world where there were consequences, and I had to now assess what these would be. I finally forced my eyes open fully and lifted my head to look around. Freed from the protective scent of her, the place stank of stale booze, weed and fag smoke. She and I were lying together half-on and half-off a fairly scuzzy looking beanbag, and some kind soul had thought to cover us up with a coat. With some relief I realised that despite the intimacy of our embrace, we were both still fully clothed, if you could actually deem her revealing dress as being 'fully' clothed. She shivered in her sleep and I wrapped myself tighter round her again, pulling the coat up over her bare shoulders as I went. My brain was starting to wake up and I tried to force it to recall the events that preceded this double-edged awakening.

There were drugs and alcohol. Lots of fucking drugs and alcohol, and most of them consumed in the company of the girl called Katie. I worked my way backwards through the night. House party. After the Old Library we had ended up at some guy's house party. I didn't have a clue who he was. We had just followed the crowd when the official party had kicked everyone out. I'd already lost my boy by then, and we were probably both too fucked up to try to find each other. Besides I had found Katie by then, and Katie was fun. She had matched me drink for drink and hit for hit, a feat I found impressive in itself. She didn't bother me with a load of asinine questions. She had danced with me, and just found a way to be with me. Through the fog of drugs, I remembered that she had made me laugh, and that life had seemed simple and good with her around. I stretched my memory back through the festival party. I hadn't fucked her. That was good, cause she was definitely fuckable. I traced our antics back through the night, smiling to myself and feeling safer about the fact I'd ended up lying in her arms. Probably just trying to keep warm was how I'd decided to justify it.

Except that I never really felt the cold. There was a reason I had curled myself so willingly around her, and my brain was trying to hide it from me. I took in a deep breath as I tried to force my mind to clear a path through the haze, but it was the scent of her I drew in at the same time that released the triggers to my memory. It reminded me of dancing with her. Not later, when we were almost too fucked up to stand. But at the beginning, when we were dancing close. Quand on dansait bien trop près. Maybe I shouldn't have touched her, but I never meant it to end up the way it did. From the first point of fragile contact, my body decided to sever all communication with the forces of logic, and thought it would do as it damn well pleased. At first it was enough just to savour the feel of her all the way down as she tumbled willingly back against me, but soon the familiar rumble of desire growled through me, and my body decided it wanted more. There were no decisions being made. I was coming up on a monster line of MDMA, and it seemed simpler just to go with the flow. It wasn't as if she was complaining as we crept stealthily closer, and then closer still. Instead she grew steadily bolder, starting to explore me with her hands, and with the drug amplifying everything she did, it felt irresponsibly, gorgeously hot.

If I am honest, I had fucking missed this. I missed the danger. The beauty of abandoning yourself into this reckless dance with a stranger, until it transformed itself seamlessly into reckless fucking. No strings, no expectations, no consequences. And it began to look increasingly likely that that was the way it was heading. By the time she decided to make a move and drag her hand across my tit, I was already wet for her. My eyes shot open at her touch, but I was way past caring. I had tried to be good, it just seemed like I wasn't very good at it. I remember grabbing her and thrusting my leg between hers, pushing into her on every other beat. The thought of it sent a pulse between my legs even now. And how she held me with her eyes. Nom de Dieu, ces yeux trop magnifiques. Asking me, accusing me, daring me, tempting me, provoking me, fucking me. She was the height of every hedonistic fury that had ever boiled within my blood. So why the hell didn't I fuck her? I know I'm not that strong.

Then I remembered. The kiss.

I shut my eyes and relived the moment, and the sensations that came with it were every bit as real as they had been last night. She woke me up, I mean _really_ woke me up. Sometimes I feel like I walk through life in a dream. I just can't be bothered with most of the things that other people find exciting, and the only time I really feel alive is the moment just before I press the button. The moment when I am in control of the fire. But a girl called Katie kissed me and the energy of a thousand explosives splintered through my body and shocked me into consciousness. Not just an ordinary consciousness. This was an electrically charged consciousness that made me understand for the very first time, why people fought so very hard for the things that they believed in.

Like love.

I was supposed to be in love. Well that's what everyone called it. People looked at us together and that was what they saw. Love. With my man. The man who hadn't given up on me, even when I had given him repeated cause. Ironically it was the beauty of the kiss itself that woke me up and reminded me of what I was about to do. More sobering than a slap in the face or a bucket of ice-cold water, the feel of her beautiful lips on mine cut straight through all the chemicals in my bloodstream. There was a moment where even this superconscious mind wanted to continue the adultery, and I took her tongue into my mouth and drank more deeply. But in the end I couldn't do it. To him. To her. The girl behind that pure and hopeful kiss deserved much more than a sleazy fuck, and the subsequent betrayal. And he deserved more effort for all the love he had shown me. And so I pulled away, even though it felt like I was tearing my skin from my flesh to do so. I was mortified. I had come so close to failing. But the girl called Katie forgave me, and together we went on an odyssey to destroy the clarity she had brought me.

An odyssey that brought us here, lying together like lovers, half-on and half-off a beanbag on someone's dirty living room floor. I knew I should get up and go. Sneak away and disappear before things got stupidly complicated. This girl called Katie was dangerous, not least for the fact that she would happily break your nose if you pissed her off. But more for the fact that despite everything, I found it impossible to leave her. Pour la même raison qui m'avait empêché de la lacher hier was something in this contact that was just too precious, despite the fact that I belonged to someone else. I really was bloody shit at this charade of good behaviour, but I had to try. In an effort to be part of a couple. In an effort to be normal. I felt like Bart Simpson at the beginning of each episode, perpetually writing lines on the blackboard of the things he must not do. What was on Effy's blackboard today? I must not fuck about with strangers, no matter how beautiful they are. Just another one of my myriad of potential sins. There were so many of them I found it hard to keep track. Putain, c'est tellement plus facile d'être vilaine. Not so much stuff to remember.

I felt Katie stirring beside me, and wondered whether to try to disentangle myself from her, but again my body refused to give me the option and she awoke with my face still buried in her shoulder.

"Where the fuck are we?" she said, her voice husky from the night's excesses.

'Together, and that's all that matters,' was what I wanted to tell her, but instead I just shrugged.

"I'm not entirely sure," I replied.

She shifted her weight from under me so she could lay on her side and look me in the eye.

"Good night then?" she said with a cheekily beautiful smile.

Fuck I loved her smile. I hadn't seen it in Paris. All she had shown me there was her delicious badasssery. Back then I had been fascinated by the badassery alone, but now I had discovered that behind the badass lay a beautiful human being, and I was enchanted.

"You seem surprisingly perky," I told her. I was feeling rough as fuck myself.

"Oh I'm still high," she smiled dreamily. "That's the way it works for me. I don't get hangovers if I have MDMA. I metabolise it so slowly, I just drift down slowly the next day. It's kind of lovely."

I cursed my own speedy metabolism, that kept me rake thin and had the drugs speeding through my system, always leaving me bad tempered and wanting more. But the only thing I wanted more of right now was Katie. She was kind of lovely. I could have stayed there looking at her all morning. Or afternoon, or whatever the fuck kind of time it was. The seediness of our surroundings did not bother me. With our beanbag and our random coat we had carved ourselves a little slice of paradise and neither of us showed much inclination to leave. We lay there grinning stupidly at each other. Somehow our hands managed to find each other and our fingers threaded lazily together of their own accord. I rarely felt this comfortable around another human being. Any form of intimacy was an effort, which was why I'd developed my 'mysterious' persona to ward them off. But this was a girl called Katie. And she was special. Everything about her drew me closer.

"I totally can't be arsed getting up," she grinned at me.

"Then don't," I whispered in reply. "On n'a qu'à vivre ici dorénavant."

Her eyes lit up at the use of my other language.

"What did you say?" she asked breathily.

"I said let's just stay here forever."

"Good idea," she smiled, despite the ridiculousness of it all.

Suddenly the gentle contact of our fingers wasn't enough. I wanted more of her touching me. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to kiss her. Not a lustful kiss at all. Just a slow Sunday morning of a kiss. A gentle handshake of a kiss. A way of saying 'hello, I think you're fucking wonderful'. I think I would have done it, if she hadn't interrupted me.

"Say something else," she said.

"Something else what?" I frowned.

"Something else in French," she pleaded. "It sounds so gorgeous."

It always made me laugh how easily the English were amused by a foreign language, but in Katie I found it adorable. I still couldn't resist the temptation to have a little fun though.

"Tu as des fesses de la taille d'une montagne, mais tes seins ne sont pas plus gros que des raisins," I said, hamming up the accent.

Katie shrieked in delight.

"Oh my God that's sooo fucking sexy," she said. "What does it mean?"

I gave her a translation, and she shoved me on the shoulder, pushing me onto my back and climbing on top of me.

"Bitch," she said aggressively, holding me down, but the amusement was shining in her eyes.

We laughed together just like best friends do, but her weight was pushing me down into the floor and the beanbag, and she was still holding me down. I wanted this. I wanted her to hold me down and take me, and I felt a buzz start up between my legs. My laughter dried up in an instant. Katie must have sensed it, because she stopped laughing too. Our eyes locked and there was a moment's silence where we both knew what was going on, but neither of us knew what to do about it. I was _this_ close to wrenching a hand free, grabbing the back of her hair and pulling her down into the kiss of the century, when my phone started buzzing furiously in my pocket.

"Woah," said Katie, her eyes rolling back slightly in her head.

She was still straddling me and the vibrations must have been going off perilously close to her pussy. She sprang away from me looking flushed and guilty, whilst I went to retrieve the offending object from my pocket.

"Fuck," I said, as soon as I saw the name flashing on the screen. The word slipped out before I could control it. I shot Katie a nervous glance, and she instantly knew it was my boyfriend. She rubbed her face in her hands, knowing how close we had just come to capitulation, and the smack of the guilt hit me like I'd been shot. Neither of them deserved for me to be fucking up like this. I touched the screen and put the phone to my ear.

"Hi," I said tentatively.

"Where are you, babes?" came his familiar friendly voice.

The voice of the man that loved me.

"Just woken up," I told him. "I ended up crashed at some house party."

"I'm sorry I zonked out on you," he said. "Thomas met some girl who had the most amazing spliff. Apparently her aunt grows it in her greenhouse. Next thing I knew, the boys were carrying me home."

"It's ok," I replied. "I had fun anyway. I made a new friend. We got wasted."

"Nice one."

I could hear the laughter in his voice, and it hurt to think how easily I could silence that laughter if I told him the whole truth.

"Listen sweetheart," he said. "Don't worry about the de-rig. Me and the boys will take care of that."

Fuck. I had been so wrapped up in Katie, that I'd completely forgotten that we had to go back and de-rig our equipment from the site.

"I should come and help out," I protested, but my man was having none of it."

"No love," he insisted. "You chill out. After what you did last night you deserve it. And I'll see you later, yeah?"

I knew he was talking about the show, but after what I did last night I deserved for him to dump me.

"I'm coming down," I said forcefully. "I'm not going to let you guys do all the work."

"You're the boss," he said genially. "Do you need a lift?"

"No I'm cool. I'll see you in a bit."

I swiped the call closed. I was so very far from cool. I was a fucking idiot. I turned back towards Katie. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, barely moving a muscle. It was only the gentle rising and falling of her tits as she breathed that assured me she was alive. Jesus Effy, stop thinking about her tits for half a second. What are you? Une espèce d'animal en chaleur? Thing was, I already knew the answer to that question. I am. Or at least I used to be. Can a leopard really change its spots?

"I don't want to give you up," I admitted.

"Then don't," she said, rolling her head to look at me with nothing but affection in her eyes. "We just have to remember not to fuck each other. Can't be that hard, right?"

"You'd think," I laughed, easing myself a little further away from her.

At least one of the things I'd told my boyfriend was true. I had made a new friend.

"I have to go to work," I apologised.

"Yeah," said Katie, sitting up and fussing with the crumpled mess of her dress. I fought the urge to reach out and help her, and instead managed to drag myself to my feet. Katie made no move to join me. I'm guessing she had no desire to drag out our separation. Reluctantly, I turned away from her and started walking towards the door.

"Aren't you going to give me your phone number?" she asked me.

I stopped and looked back one last time, thinking it over before declining.

"We'll find each other," I said. "If it's meant to be."

Maybe it was better not to push our luck and to let the fates decide if we really could be friends.

"I think it's meant to be," she smiled.

I mulled over her words as I walked down the empty Sunday streets. J'y crois, moi. Me, and a girl called Katie.

.

.

.

**WHAT EFFY SAYS**

**I asked for interpretations rather than literal translations, but the original English version follows the French here.**

**1. J'ai passé tellement de temps en noeuds autour de corps étranges en mon temps.****(I have been wrapped around so many bodies in my time.)**

**2. Quand on dansait bien trop près.****(When we were dancing way too close.)**

**3. Nom de Dieu, ces yeux trop magnifiques. (Oh God those fucking beautiful eyes.) **

**4. Pour la même raison qui m'avait empêché de la lacher hier soir.****(Just as I had found it impossible to let her go last night.)**

**5. Putain, c'est tellement plus facile d'être vilaine. (Fuck me, it's so much easier to be bad.)**

**6. "On n'a qu'à vivre ici dorénavant." ("Let's just stay here forever.")**

**7. "Tu as des fesses de la taille d'une montagne, mais tes seins ne sont pas plus gros que des raisins,"****("Your buttocks are the size of a mountain, but your tits are little more than apricots,") **

**8. Une espèce d'animal en chaleur?****(Some kind of animal?)**

**9.****J'y crois, moi. (I think it's meant to be.)**

**Thanks for reading. Hypes. **


	5. Cuckoo In The Nest

**Ok, so it's been a while, but there are two reasons for this. First has been a stupidly intense work schedule as we got a new show ready for Christmas, and this is my first day off in forever. Secondly and more importantly is that SJ has been critical – very dangerously ill, and I couldn't work out what would be the moral thing to do with this, to continue or to stop. However, the doctors have tried a new treatment and she seems to be responding. The girls who are with her have been told to read to her, so I am writing more so they can do just that. And once again, I urge you to send any positive energy you can to the girl with nine lives. She's fighting, but she needs your help.**

**I don't own Skins but I am sure as fuck they wouldn't mind me borrowing it for this.**

**That's it. Be festive. Spread the love. Hypes xx**

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5. Cuckoo In The Nest

Katie

"This has got to be the stupidest idea you have ever come up with in your life," I told my Dad.

"You'll be fine, Katiekins," he assured me. "And we need to know what we're dealing with."

"I don't like lying to people," I protested.

"Oh so all those tall stories you told me when you were a teenager to cover your behaviour were the truth then were they?" laughed my mother.

"Well, what if they find out and they batter me?" I asked, hoping to appeal to their protective parental sides.

This time both of them laughed.

"I think I'd be more worried about them lads getting battered by you, Katie love," sniggered Rob.

Great. I was starting to run out of excuses.

"Think of the family, darling," urged Jenna.

"Fitches stick together," said Rob, nodding seriously.

Fucking Fitch family trump card played again. However much I might moan, they knew I loved them, like fierce, and would do anything to protect them in the end, but I had to have one last stab.

"Then why can't Emily do it?" I pleaded.

"Darling you know Emily's going to LA with Naomi," said Jenna. "She'll be meeting all sorts of people out there. It's going to be a great opportunity for her."

Both Mum and Dad were absolutely thrilled that Emily was dating a budding supermodel. Funny how they never seemed that thrilled about it when it was me, but the pair of them had fallen under the Diamond spell, and they couldn't get enough of fucking Naomi. Mind you, the fact that she treated Emily like a fucking princess might have swayed their opinion.

"Well what about James?" I said.

Yeah I know. I was getting desperate.

"James would…" said my mother. "Well, James would just be useless."

"You're the smart one," encouraged Rob. "This operation needs someone with a bit of nouse. You know, someone subtle."

I shook my head in resignation. I have been called many things in my life, but 'subtle' has never been one of them. I looked back at my parents expectant faces. There was no way I was getting out of this.

.

.

One week later I was stood outside the door of some kind of converted barn type thing in a field on the outskirts of Bristol with trepidation buzzing through my brains. Much as I was still convinced this whole thing was a fucking farce, I took a deep breath and raised my hand to knock. It was now or never. The face that greeted me seemed friendly enough as it formed its features into a welcoming smile. The face belonged to a tall thin boy with floppy black hair. He was dressed kind of scruffily, but he was still pretty fit. Underneath his raggy clothing I could see some half decent muscles, and he had a lovely olive skin tone that made me wonder if he was one of the French guys. I ignored the flutter that rippled through my stomach when I thought 'French', and tried to focus on feeding him my bogus cover story.

"Hi, I'm Katie Ford," I said. "I'm the MA student that wanted to come and find out about your company."

It was Emily who had come up with the idea of me being a research student. At first I'd scoffed at the idea. Imagine it, me as an academic. I'd always been much more of a doer than a thinker. But she had gotten right into it, even thinking up the premise of my thesis, an investigation of spectacle as an art form, saying I could incorporate my knowledge of fashion shows into it as well. She assured me I was smarter than I thought I was and a champion bullshitter, and that this idea would give me free reign to come and go as I pleased and spend as much time as I wanted with Le Coeur Explosif. Which up until now was as little time as possible.

"Oh yeah, I'm Freddie," said friendly face, opening the door and gesturing for me to come in. "I'm the guy you spoke to about it. Welcome to our secret lair."

"Not that secret," I smiled. "The address is on the internet."

"You know what I mean," grinned Freddie. "Explosif HQ. Let me show you round and introduce you to the team."

He turned around and walked in front of me, granted me a fine view of his tight little ass. Not bad. Not bad at all. He led me past some stairs and through a door into a big open space, filled with all sorts of weird and wonderful metal creations, large scale sculptures and two dimensional metal drawings enhanced with rope light, or built to house pyro or fire sculpture. It was fascinating stuff, and proof enough that this lot were interested in more than your average pyro blaster.

"This stuff is amazing," I said.

"Yeah, we started off with small scale shows, which were more based around Cook's creations," said Freddie.

"Cook?" I asked innocently.

"Fucking hell, Freds. Where did you dig up this beauty?" boomed a loud voice from behind me.

"Cook," grinned Freddie, and I turned to see a shirtless man, dressed in heavy work trousers and boots, wearing thick welding gloves and carrying a piece of red hot metal with some tongs in one hand. Oh dear lord, that was one fine torso. He looked like he came from a calendar.

"Cook's our metal guru," said Freddie. "There's nothing he can't do with a piece of steel."

"And there's a piece of steel waiting for you right here, baby," said Cook, grabbing at his crotch with his free hand. "Any time you want it."

He was crude, but his eyes were sparkling, and although I wasn't about to throw myself at him right away, I was definitely mentally filing him away as a possibility for later.

"Fuck's sake Cook," said Freddie, shaking his head. "Katie's a guest. She's the MA student who wants to write about us for her research."

"I'm all for the furtherment of knowledge," said Cook. "You can pump me for information any time you like."

"You get used to him," sighed Freddie. "He's actually an alright guy, underneath it all."

"Well, obviously I'll have to wait for evidence before I can make a final assessment," I said cheekily. "But I do like to be thorough in my investigations."

Cook beamed back at me.

"Sassy," he said. "I like that. I can see you and me getting on very well, Katiekins. Very well indeed."

"Why don't I show you our fusing room?" said Freddie, putting his hand on my arm and guiding me away. "We've got a little gig at the weekend, so Thomas is preparing some stuff."

I noticed his hand had stayed on my arm as we walked, and I for one was in no hurry for him to take it away. He was much more gentle and polite than the walking ego that was Cook, but he was still pretty damn hunky.

"The fusing room is where we put all the individual fireworks together to make sequences," he was saying. "They have to be joined together, so that one firing impulse will trigger a whole array of material. Or if they are to be fired separately, each firework will need it's own igniter."

I let him prattle on as we walked. Of course I knew all of this stuff already, but I wasn't about to let him know that. We left by the back door and crossed a yard to a smaller outbuilding.

"Obviously, the fusing has to be done well away from Cook's workshop," said Freddie as I nodded attentively. "There's a lot of black powder about and you can't take the risk of any sparks. The pyro itself is stored way over there till we need it."

He pointed down a trackway to a metal shipping container.

"Is that safe?" I asked innocently, despite knowing every detail of the rules on storing pyro.

"Best place for it," smiled Freddie. "You know when you get your fireworks for bonfire night, they tell you to store them in a metal tin? Well that's just a bigger tin."

"Is that why you work all the way out here?" I said.

"Yeah," replied Freddie. "The material has to be stored so far away from any residential area."

With good reason too. Most of the fireworks we get in this country are imported from China, and in the year of the Beijing Olympics there was a shortage in the amount of material being let out of the country. Which led to some unscrupulous operator trying to steal stuff from other users. Except that the idiots he had hired to do the deed, were not really aware of what they were dealing with, and in the end they were trying to angle grind their way into someone's store. Needless to say it did not end well.

"Here we are," said Freddie, opening the door for me. Unlike his friend, he appeared to be a gentleman.

Inside the outhouse, the boy that Pandora had described as 'a complete blinkin' dreamboat' was working at a table. Spread out in front of him were a set of candles he was putting on firing frames, boxes of igniters, rolls of match, and various sorts of parcel and gaffer tape. Thomas looked up from his labours and as his white smile split his dark-skinned face, I was forced to agree with Panda's assessment.

"Thommo, this is Katie," said Freddie. "She's a postgrad student who is going to be hanging out with us for a bit."

Thomas wiped his hands down on his overalls before extending one towards me.

"I'm Thomas," he said. "So pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too," I said, accepting his firm handshake. "So what are you doing here?"

As I listened to him explain the process of linking the individual units of pyro together, I could feign attentiveness whilst assessing the latest of the Explosif boys to grace my eye line. Thomas's delicious French African accent and athletic physique had certainly piqued my interest. Maybe coming here wasn't going to be such a chore after all. Surrounded by such a fit bunch of lads, maybe my biggest problem was going to be deciding which one of them I was going to fuck first. It seemed that there were indeed plenty more fish in the sea, and I had just managed to land myself in the lushest part of the ocean.

"So how many of you are there?" I asked, keen to know if I was going to be treated to any more hunky delights.

"There's four of us," replied Freddie. "We were all friends before we started any of this stuff. Although we all muck in together, Cook's always been into making stuff, Thommo's more on the technical side, and I handle most of the admin."

"So who's number four?" I asked intrigued.

From what I'd seen so far it seemed quite sweet. Just a bunch of lads having a laugh. Childhood friends who had been bitten by the firebug, and loved it too much to stop. But none of this explained what I had seen at the end of the Mayfest. That was pure class. That had managed to thrill me and excite me, despite my own cynicism. I couldn't imagine any of the boys I had met so far being responsible for such astonishing art. The mind that had created that was something very special.

"Number four's our secret weapon," grinned Freddie.

"Secret weapon?" I said sceptically.

We had crossed back into the main building and gone through the big workshop, before climbing the stairs we had passed on the way in. Freddie paused with his hand on the door handle and turned back to me.

"Yeah," he said, his voice filled with admiration and what I would soon discover was love. "The brains behind the operation. She's a genius."

_She?_ The word ricocheted around my head. Even in these modern times the pyro game was still incredibly male-dominated. You didn't find many women on crews, and you certainly didn't find them in positions of power. Freddie opened the door and strode purposefully through.

"Katie Ford," he said theatrically. "Allow me to present the beating heart of Le Coeur Explosif, our designer…."

Time slowed down, and Freddie's voice sounded like it was echoing through treacle as he introduced her, but I didn't even need to hear the name. Something told me in the nanosecond before I stepped into the room that it would be her. I never asked her what she did for a living on that wonderful night that we spent together. It didn't seem important. What I had discovered was that she was special, and now I was being proved right. Not only was she beautiful, intriguing, fun and ridiculously sexy, she was also a fucking genius. It felt like someone had let off a six-inch shell inside my chest. To think that the stunning images I had seen at the show had come from inside her mind left me speechless. Effy had looked up from her computer, and the instant I found myself locked into those incessantly searching blue eyes, all thoughts of sexytime with any of her boys exploded into nothingness. Effy's presence invaded me, and there was no room for anyone else.

"Murder," I said quietly.

Effy smiled to herself as she caught the joke and the room was bathed in incandescent light. I just wanted to run and hold her in my arms, but there was something in the way.

"Murder?" frowned Freddie.

"I'm parched," I said. "I could murder a cup of tea."

"Of course," he smiled. "I'll go put the kettle on. Eff do you want one?"

Effy shrugged nonchalantly, which Freddie seemed to take as a yes and headed off to the kitchen leaving Effy and I alone. We stared at each other wordlessly for at least a minute, until she broke the silence.

"So I guess it was meant to be after all," she smiled. "Unless you're stalking me."

"I had no idea," I replied.

"Student?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

Fuck. The realisation hit me that this was who I was supposed to be spying on. My beautiful Effy. How the fuck was I supposed to do that? Even for my Dad? I had a violent urge just to spill everything out right there and then, but what if she threw me out? Ever since the night of the party she had been burning away in my brain, appearing uninvited at the most inappropriate of moments. I had daydreamed my way through work, and there had been more than one instance of nocturnal alone time that had featured her image. I had figured it would just be better to go with it, let myself work through the teenage crush and get over it. But faced with her in all her real life glory the emotion exploded messily through me again. I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing her, even if I had to make do with being friends, and I realised that my cover would give me the perfect opportunity to spend time with her. I could still report to my Dad, telling him useless information that anyone with an internet connection could find out, but I wouldn't really be betraying her. And maybe familiarity would ease this obsession, and we really could be friends. My mind was made up. I decided to run with the deception.

"I lost my job that day in Paris," I told her.

"Figures," she said.

"You know what happened?" I asked.

"I heard somebody smacked a model in the face," she said. "I'm guessing that was you."

"Yeah well nobody would hire me after that," I replied. "So I thought it might be good to go back to school for a bit and reassess."

"So brains as well as beauty," she smiled at me.

Oh fuck, she was flirting with me. Stop flirting with me, Effy. You have a fucking boyfriend.

"Stop flirting with me, Effy. You have a fucking boyfriend."

Ok, so no filter between brain and mouth.

"Je suis desolée," she said, holding up her hands.

No, no, no, Effy. Not with the fucking French.

"So have you clocked which one is my boy yet?" she asked me.

"Aren't they all your boys, Babes?" I said.

"True enough," she said casually, knowing full well the effect she had on people.

"But then again, Cook hit on me the second he laid eyes on me, so I don't think it's him," I said.

"Can't exactly blame him," said Effy, her eyes dragging slowly across my figure. I had dressed more conservatively than my usual fare. The kind of thing I thought an intellectual might wear. But clearly it didn't make the blindest bit of difference to Effy.

"Fuck's sake Effy," I said in frustration. "I'm really trying to make this work, but how can I if you won't even make the slightest bit of effort not to perv on me?"

"I'm sorry," she apologised again, this time in English. "It just feels so natural."

"So, BOYFRIEND," I said pointedly. "We've ruled out Cook…"

"Have we?" said Effy. "How do you know my boyfriend's not a cheating cunt?"

"Because if he was, you would have slept with me the night of the Old Library," I replied.

She didn't have an answer for that, because it was the truth. We lapsed into silence again, unable to rip our traitorous eyes away from each other until Freddie reappeared with steaming mugs of heated beverage. He handed me mine, and then walked over to Effy who was still sat in her swivel chair, as dastardly as a Bond villain, and just as deadly. He handed her her tea and then kissed her tenderly on the top of the head. So that was it then. The bad girl had somehow landed herself a nice boy. In a way I was disappointed it wasn't Cook. At least he would have been a worthy adversary. But Freddie started talking again, bigging Effy up and going on about how amazing she was. Not that I needed telling, but his voice was so full of love, I realised it would be an act of extraordinary cruelty to take her from him. I was just going to have to be strong.

"So how do you want to do this?" asked Freddie. "Do you want to interview us and stuff?"

"Um yeah," I said hesitantly.

I hadn't really thought this through, and my encounter with Effy had completely thrown me.

"But today I'd maybe just like to be a fly on the wall for a bit," I said. "You know, just hang out and see how you operate."

"Sure," said Freddie genially. "I'm sure the lads won't mind having another pretty girl about the place."

My eyes snapped to Effy. She was smirking, but she wouldn't look at me. Neither will the lady, Freddie boy. Neither will the lady.

I spent the rest of the morning there, though I studiously avoided being alone with Effy. I hung out quite a lot with Thomas when Cook's incessant flirting got too much for me, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to do a little digging on Panda's behalf. He turned out to a very sweet and intelligent man, and I decided to shelve that 'on Panda's behalf thing'. Once I could bear it, I was definitely going to need something to distract me from Effy, and I decided it would be best to keep my options open for the moment. We found ourselves deep in the middle of a conversation about conflict diamonds in Africa, when Freddie popped his head round the door and called lunch. We went through to a kitchen area, where they all sat down at a table and ate a proper meal together. How very European, I thought. How very fucking French. Effy sat at the head of the table like some kind of a queen. All the boys had personalities of their own, but it was clear that she was the focal point for them all. Even though she said virtually nothing as usual, everything passed through her as they all sought her silent approval. Freddie was clearly smitten with her, but even Cook and Thomas automatically seemed to defer to her. Effy was the driving force behind this whole operation. It seems I wasn't too far wrong when I referred to them as her boys. If she chose to, she could probably have manipulated them any way she wanted. In former times I could have laughed with a pretty girl like her about how easy it was to manipulate men, but here I was, just as foolish as the rest of them, like a fat kid desperate to be chosen by the captain of the sports team.

But I was the cuckoo in the nest. I watched as the lads laughed and joked and carried on as lads do, and Effy smiled tolerantly at them. And I realised that they were a family fireworks company too. Not in the conventional sense perhaps, but it made me all the more determined to behave. Despite my attraction for Effy, despite the fact that I would do almost anything just to be around her, I was not going to fuck with them. I respected family too much for that. I found myself actually relishing my subterfuge as a researcher. I wanted to find out about them. I wanted to ask questions and discover how this odd little family came to be.

"So have you lived in England long?" I asked Effy.

"France as a child, then here as a teenager," she said. "Then France again. I haven't been back that long. I was still working for Thierry when I saw you in Paris."

"Wait a minute," said Freddie. "You two know each other?"

I ignored him.

"Thierry?" I said in astonishment. "Thierry as in…?"

"The one and only," she smiled, interrupting my question. "I trained with him."

Thierry as in Thierry LeClerc, the founder member of Groupe TLC, the rockstar of French pyro. They fired massive high stakes shows from bridges and stadia, and their Bastille Day pyro from the Eiffel Tower was the stuff of legend. They worked with famous bands, and opened fabulous Middle Eastern hotel complexes. They were fucking huge, and we had spent a considerable part of our budget for the Paris show, booking them to provide the fabulous finale that should have been Tamara's moment of glory, but which instead had fallen to Naomi Diamond. I wished I could have seen it.

"Were you firing?" I asked her.

She nodded silently.

"I missed it," I said sadly.

Another gallic shrug and a hooded look from under her eyebrows had me fighting for breath. Jesus Christ, that company was world famous. No wonder she was good.

"So you two have met before?" repeated Freddie.

"Katie used to work in fashion," said Effy. "We met briefly at a runway show in Paris."

"What a coincidence," said Freddie.

It didn't feel like coincidence. It felt like fate. Mine and Effy's eyes flashed together only for a moment, but in that moment we understood each other. We made a silent pact not to mention the night of the Old Library. Did it make us bad people? Or simply better people for trying to protect something decent? I couldn't tell any more. My head was spinning from the multiple levels of subterfuge in my brain.

"So why did you leave France?" I asked her. Lovely as the boys were, I couldn't believe she had abandoned a career with Groupe TLC for this. Effy and Freddie both answered at the same time.

"Artistic freedom," said Effy.

"For love," said Freddie.

Well that was fucking interesting.

"Art and love," I said to her. "No two finer things to fight for."

For the first time since I had met her this morning, I held her gaze. For a moment a heavy thunder rumbled across those clear blue eyes, and it held such a darkness that it scared me. I half recoiled, and she knew that I had caught her out. Within seconds, her air of careful disinterest was back in place. She turned her attention some rubbish Cook was spouting, and the moment was lost.

I excused myself from them after lunch. I needed to get some fucking air. I had bummed a fag from Cook before I left, and I only drove a little way down the road before stopping the car and getting out to smoke it. The simple option would be to stay away. Tell my dad where to shove his stupid little spygames, and to stay the hell away from the minefield that was Effy Stonem. But I knew it would never happen. I had seen her. I had seen behind the cool façade, and I needed to know more. I needed to be there for her when whatever trouble was brewing behind those stupidly seductive eyes exploded into view. Even if it was just as a friend. Even if it was going to cause me more pain than pleasure. Even if it was all going to end up in a bloody mess. There would be no escaping her. The planets had aligned and were dragging us along in their orbit. She was inevitable.

**FOR SJ xx**


	6. Creatures Of The Night

**Greetings all, I hope your festive times were delightful. I had the best fucking present ever, when I got the news that SJ was continuing to improve and had woken up! She even gave her friend a wink and a little wave, so things are looking up. She's still a very sick girl though so keep those wishes coming, and thank you for your help so far.**

**Once again, I must thank my wonderful French consultant BlueEyedFrog for her input into this chapter, her creativity is helping my Effy to come alive and for this I am hugely grateful.**

**I think everybody knows I don't own Skins by now ;-)**

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6. Creatures Of The Night

Effy

I am nocturnal. J'ai toujours été un oiseau de nuit. When I was bad this meant adventure, roaming the bars and clubs and streets to see what devilment and mischief I could find. Now that I am good, it means lying awake in my lover's arms whilst he drifts contentedly through his marijuana soaked dreams. It has always been this way. As soon as I could manage it, I would sneak out of the house at night, getting my brother Tony to cover for me with Mum and Dad. It was simple enough. Even then I was a mistress of disguise. They had no idea that the quiet polite daytime Effy they encountered would morph into another girl altogether when darkness fell. It is one of the strangest things about having a lover. Having someone wonder where you are at night. Wanting you next to them even as they sleep. Missing your presence when you're not there in the bed. I have only coped with this transition by using this time to think, to imagine, to dream. In this silence I can feed my creativity, and I am thankful for that, for it is the one thing that keeps me sane. And I have to keep remembering how much Freddie is responsible for that. Cook and Thommo too. Without them I would still be facilitating someone else's vision. And that wasn't enough.

Some nights I bring my laptop to our bed so I can work when inspiration hits me. Other nights he just clings too tightly and I know that his subconscious needs to feel that I am there. Tonight was just such a night. He had wrapped himself around me and let his breathing fall in step with mine. His hand was resting on my thigh, and seemed to take up almost all of it. I love his body and the things it can do for me, but sometimes it just seems impossibly large. Sometimes it feels like he could crush me. Some nights I have to fight the urge to run away. But then I remember that I am good. And that he loves me, and he would never hurt me. Even if I deserve it.

Freddie and I live at the barn. It's peaceful, and I like to be close to the source of the work. Cook lives in town because he 'needs to be closer to the totty', and I can't say I blame him. It's quite a trek out here at the end of a night. Like a good African boy, Thomas still lives with his mother and his younger siblings. He is the man of the house, and somehow manages to live a double life between us and our godless whoring ways, and his duty to his family. It's admirable, but he is an honourable man. I am surrounded by good men. Cook might be an obnoxious slag at times, but in his heart he is true and an intensely loyal friend. They keep me focussed. They remind me that I am good.

Of course there are nights when I return to my primal self. Une créature aussi féroce ne peut pas être restreinte trop longtemps. I need to release it every now and then in order to survive. Over time I have learned to control it better. The drink and the drugs no longer lead to irretrievable chaos and mayhem, and somehow I have acquired the skill of not letting things go too far. Freddie used to be terrified of such nights, always afraid that I would revert to type and fuck him over again, but just as I have slowly learned to behave, so he has slowly learned to trust me and no longer feels the need to follow me round like a private detective. It's a sound move on his part, because nothing pisses me off more than the feeling of being caged, and unlike the popular saying, the more rope he gives me, the easier it is _not_ to hang myself. It has become part of our agreement that for all the nights I remain connected to him, there must be nights when I can exercise the beast.

But the night is a fickle mistress. Her very beauty is her unpredictability. And just when I thought I had things all worked out… La nuit m'a montré ses dents.

The night gave me a gift of Katie, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since. At first I tried to forget, to shrug it off as a passing fancy, something that would not trouble me for long. But when she showed up at the barn, I wasn't surprised at all. I had left it to the Fates to decide, and they had thrown us together in more conclusive a manner than I had ever imagined. No casual meeting in another club or party. No arranging to meet for a coffee in a nice public place with the easily arranged timescale of finishing a cup. No, she was going to be here. In my space. In my home. In my head. I could already feel her crawling beneath my skin. There will be no hiding from Katie.

A smile graced my lips as I remembered the way she stood up to me the day we met for the third time. There is no coyness or pretence with Katie. She will not let us lie to ourselves or to each other about our inconvenient attraction. She wants us to face it and move on. And I owe it to her to try.

.

.

.

The next time I saw Katie was at night. Freddie had invited her to the gig we were doing at the weekend, and I wasn't too happy about it. It was a rent-payer. Small gig, limited budget, conservative client. I didn't really want her to see me doing this kind of work. Freddie was always delighted any time we got a job, and in these harsh times probably rightly so. But I had bigger dreams. Je voulais créer des choses incroyablement belles, des choses a couper le souffle. And these were the things I wanted to show to Katie. Not some dumb blaster for the re-opening of a regenerated park in Swindon. But it was impossible to make a fuss about it without it seeming weird. So I was stuck with it. It won't be too bad, I tried to rationalise. I forget that the mere sight of a firework is exciting enough for most people, and that others do not analyse every little detail the way I do. But still, it was hard to hide my disappointment, and it put me in a touchy mood. The boys have known me for a long time, and they know when to steer well clear. Even Freddie with his ridiculous optimism could see that there was something eating me.

"What's up Effy?" he asked me as I was testing the firing system not long before the show.

"Nothing," I replied, frowning studiously at the display on my laptop, grateful for a sudden distraction. "Slave module four looks like it's not responding."

I was hoping Freds would rush off to see to it himself, but he merely radioed Cook and returned his attentions to me.

"You've been acting funny all day," he said.

"I'm having one of my 'funny' days," I said flatly.

He turned away and I could tell he was rolling his eyes, and trying not to let me wind him up.

"Effy honey, you know you can tell me anything," he said kindly.

"Honey I've got a fucking slave module out of whack," I said in frustration. "Now is not the time for a deep and meaningful."

Just then Cook's voice crackled through the radio.

"Try it now, Eff," he said.

I re-ran the test programme, and sure enough slave four was back online.

"What was it?" I said, taking the radio from Freddie.

"Dicky connection," said Cook. "I pulled out the two core and cleaned it. Then I stuck it back in hard, wriggled it around a bit and hey presto! Magic happened."

I smirked at his innuendo.

"Well you always were good at that," I said.

"You should know," he laughed loudly.

I didn't even need to look at Freddie to know the look that would be on his face right now – half righteous frown and half kicked puppy. He hated any kind of reminder that Cook had gotten there first, though to be fair that was back in the day when almost anybody got there first. I was more than happy to shag anything shiny that took my attention. Apart from Freds that was. Even though he was so, so pretty as a boy, the sheer look of longing and intensity he had in his eyes every time he looked at me was enough to put the fear of several gods in me, and I made sure to keep him at arm's length. I think he pretty much fell in love with me the day we met, and it must have been torture watching me fucking all the randoms. But what could I do? That was in the dark days before I found my fire, and even though I was shitfaced most of the time, I still had the sense to realise we would have destroyed each other. I hadn't ever told him that I had taken Thomas's virginity. There were just some things he was better off not knowing. I turned away from my laptop, hoping to salve some of his hurt with a kiss, but I was saved by the sound of his phone ringing. Whoever it was seemed to cheer him up instantly.

"Where are you?" he asked. "Ok, stay there. I'll come and meet you."

He closed the call.

"That was Katie," he told me. "I'm gonna go fetch her."

"Right," I said casually, concealing the way my heart had jumped at the mere mention of her name. Y'a des choses qu'il ne valait pas qu'il sache, c'est sûr.

He wandered off and I attempted to make myself look busy, even though there was merely a ruse. All the hard work had taken place earlier in the day, and with all the circuits testing perfectly there was nothing left to do but wait. This was always the worst part. You always had to leave yourself plenty of time, just in case of bad weather or if something went wrong, but then there was this inevitable lull that always left my skin crawling as if I had fallen into a barrel of ants, and my mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. The closer I get to firing, the worse it gets, until magically, about five minutes before the call it all goes away. I mean everything goes away. I get in the zone and it is like I become a different person. I become almost beatifically calm, and I feel like I could do fucking anything. In the olden days, you had a clock and a manual firing system. You had to physically hit a red button to ignite each firing sequence, and you had to be on it for the whole of the show. These days everything is pre-programmed, you only have to hit 'go' once and the computer does the rest, but still, the seconds before you fire are some of the most precious seconds of all. The seconds when you feel most alive. My mother has this saying 'Sans risque, la vie n'est rien'. And I believe her. I think perhaps some of the wildness of my youth was connected to that feeling. But then I discovered the power of explosives, and now it's what I live for.

"How's it looking, babe?" said Cook, ambling into my field of vision in his protective clothing – fireproof overalls and a bright red helmet with visor and ear defenders.

"Génial," I told him. "Everything's looking sweet."

"I'll say it is," he said, grinning over my shoulder.

"Oh, shitting, cocking, fucking bitch cunt," came an unmistakable voice from behind me.

I turned round to see Katie extracting an expensive looking high heel from what looked suspiciously like dog shit. She was furious, and I had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Fucking dog owners who don't clean up their creatures' poo should be made to roll around in it," she declared, pulling a packet of tissues from her handbag. She kicked off the offending shoe and picked it up gingerly, looking like she was about to vomit.

"Here you are, babe," said Cook, taking the tissues and the shoe from her. "I'll sort that out for you."

I cocked my head to one side and raised my eyebrows. Cook being a gentleman? Well that was fucking interesting. Seems like I'm not the only one to have fallen under Katie's spell. She was still swearing like it was an Olympic sport, but from her fair mouth it sounded like poetry. I forgot about all my pre-show tension and just watched her in all her foul-mouthed glory.

"Occupational hazard I guess," shrugged Freddie, trying to make light of it, but she sent him a withering glare that had ripples of fire running through my gut. Elle était resplendissante.

"There you are," said Gentleman Cook, presenting her with the newly cleaned footwear. "You know, if you're gonna watch the show, you should come back with us to the shell site. It's much more exciting watching them go off close by."

"Does this coat look like it's fucking flameproof?" she said scathingly. "I think I'll be alright out here thanks."

Cook was unperturbed.

"Doesn't it need to be?" he said. "Cause you are one fucking red hot lady."

"Seriously, Cook," I said mockingly. "Do you have to drag all your chat up lines kicking and screaming from the grave?"

Katie looked up at me, and I was forced to eat my words. She was hot. She was fucking scorchingly hot, and I couldn't blame Cook for wanting to get into her pants at all. The coat in question was a gorgeous pale cream hooded fake fur, with long thick spikes of fur and occasional darker spots, giving the impression of an animal print without being too obvious. It was deliberately oversized, counterpointing perfectly the tight purple dress she was wearing underneath. Not exactly the kind of thing a regular person would wear to an outdoor event in a park, but fuck me, I wasn't complaining. She looked fabulous. Thankfully I was saved from any embarrassingly obvious drooling, by the client coming over to give me the five-minute standby. This was the cue for the boys to go back out onto the site to be close to the tubes in case anything went wrong, leaving me alone out front with Katie. Fortunately this was the time when I briefly became the coolest woman on the planet, when I had kilograms of fierce chemistry at my fingertips.

"You look great," I said coolly, ignoring the gathering crowds past the barriers behind us.

"So do you," she said.

"If you say so," I laughed.

Just like the boys, I was dressed in my fireproof overalls, except where theirs were dark blue, mine was red. It was a little vanity I had always allowed myself, and anyway it matched my helmet. Nevertheless, I felt stupidly underdressed in the face of Katie's fabulous outfit.

"I do," she said. "I think it's sexy."

"Now who's breaking the no flirting rule?" I said.

"I'm not flirting," she countered. "I'm just stating a fact. I think you look sexy in your firing suit."

Why? Why did one stupid little sentence from her have such an impact? I loved Freddie, but he could complement me all night and it wouldn't make me feel this stupidly happy.

"Well, I'd love to stay and 'exchange facts' with you all night, but I have somewhere I'm supposed to be," I said, wondering if she'd remember the way she yelled at me back in Paris. Even in the semi darkness, I could see a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

"I'm not a total cunt," she said with a sheepish half smile. She remembered.

"More like half cunt, half goddess?" I suggested.

She burst out into a delighted laugh. Fuck, I loved making her laugh.

"Something like that," she smiled back at me. "But seriously, babes. I think you _do_ have somewhere to be."

I shook myself from my Katie trance.

"Come on then."

I took her hand and led her back to the table in the small gazebo where my firing system sat, linked up to my laptop.

"I'm glad to see there's a red button," she said. "Even in these modern times there should still be a red button."

"Il y a toujours un bouton rouge." I replied, turning the key and arming the system.

From this moment I am unbreakable. My body clock slows down, my breathing becomes incredibly calm, and my heart rate eases to a steady dance. You would expect the opposite, that the nerves and the adrenalin would send your organs into overdrive. But I think it's more like what happens when you crash or you fall, when your brain moves faster than your perception of time and you can see and understand everything in the moments before the impact. Whatever it was, I fucking loved it. It was the most powerful drug of all, and I was addicted. I could even sense the electricity from the radio before it crackled into life. I could hear the intake of breath in the throat of the client before he spoke. I could taste the explosive potential in the tubes I was about to launch. The client uttered my favourite words in all the universe. 'Fireworks Go.' I pressed the button. J'étais entière.

The sky burst into life in front of me, and the special smile that blessed me only in this moment burst into life across my face. Suddenly it didn't matter that this was just a shitty little gig in Swindon. Suddenly I was no longer just Effy, former slut and waster, a girl on a road to nowhere. I was the fabulous Effy Stonem. I was a creator, a woman who made beauty from destruction. The sound of my beautiful bombs mingled with the gasps of the crowd, and I felt the unbeatable surge of power that came from knowing what I did was good. And I was happy.

But somewhere amongst all that delicious noise, I could sense an unusual silence, which intrigued me. My eyes were pulled from the show as I realised the silence came from beside me. From Katie. I stopped watching the fireworks and started to watch her instead. Her eyes were riveted to the display, but unlike the crowd behind us she did not ooh and aah excitedly. Instead she stood perfectly still, concentrated, focussed even, as her eyes darted about to take in the full extent of the spectacle. She looked like she was studying it, paying attention to every little detail. Every time I did something clever or slightly unexpected, a little smile would break across her face, almost as if she was proud of me. It was unnerving, and yet fascinating. I studied every tiny nuance of her face with as much enthusiasm as she was analysing my display. Her eyes were just stunning, a deep liquid brown that washed over me before seeping through my skin and mingling with my blood. Behind all that fierceness lay an even fiercer intelligence. For a woman like me, a woman who loved fire, she was irresistible, for she was brimming with it. She had all the explosive potential of a ten inch shell. She could be the most exciting thing in the world, but if you handled her wrong she could fucking kill you. Katie was vital. She never had to struggle to find a moment where she felt alive, even stepping in dog shit in Swindon, she had a volcanic intensity that put most of humanity to shame. And I adored her.

"God, you're good," she said, as the percussive beats of my finale hammered their way across the night sky.

"Quoi?" I muttered, defaulting back to French as I so often did when I was unsettled or surprised.

"You're good, Effy," repeated Katie. "Really good. I know this display probably only took up about twenty percent of your brain power, but even so, you made it different. I may not be a creative, but I do know about shows. I know what makes people sit up and take notice. I know what turns spectacle into art. I know the difference between a fleeting experience that feels good at the time but is soon forgotten, and something that makes an impression that lasts. You've got that kind of talent, Effy. People are going to remember you."

It seemed like I had been waiting all my life to hear those words, but to hear them from her was just…

"Is that why you chose me?" I asked her.

"Chose you?" she frowned.

"For the thesis," I explained.

"Oh.. yeah," she stuttered. "Yeah, that's why I chose you… I mean, your company. Your stuff is just the kind of thing I'm looking for. It relates directly to the central premise."

"I can't wait to read it," I said.

"Um, yeah, well it's early days yet," she said nervously. "I'm really still just collecting my thoughts at the moment."

So it would seem even warrior princesses have their Achilles heel, and I think I had just found Katie's. She was nervous about her thesis. It seemed that she had something she believed in, but was unsure about the delivery. I must admit that though I had always recognised her intelligence, I had never had her pegged as an academic. Maybe she was intimidated by that world in a way she wasn't when she was in an environment that she knew. Either way, that hint of vulnerability made her even more gorgeous.

"I'm sure whatever you write, it will be fabulous," I said.

"You really are bad news, Effy Stonem," she chuckled.

"Why?" I complained. "I'm trying to be supportive friend now."

"But do you have to be so darn cute with it?" she grinned.

"Twice, salope!" I declared. "You've broken the no flirting rule twice."

"Well then, you'll…" she began, before stopping herself. "Oh God, I can't even say it. It's too obvious."

She ran her hand back through her dark purple tinted hair, and the urge to do the same to her myself was almost overwhelming.

"Is this the way it's going to be, or do you think we'll get over it?" she asked me.

"We have to get over it," I replied. "I want you around."

"Come here," she said softly, and pulled me into a hug.

It was a full body hug, but it was chaste. It offered us potential for a different kind of love, one where we mattered to each other, but as friends. Not everyone of course saw it that way.

"Ladies, ladies, fancy a bit of Cookie meat in that sandwich?"

Cook's voice was immediately followed by a loud thwacking sound, which I knew from experience was Freddie whacking him round the head for being crude about his girlfriend. Katie extricated herself from me and I watched as she carefully set about hugging all of the boys too, a move which was particularly well received by Cook.

"Oh sweet Katiekins," he said whilst he had her in his grasp. "When are you and me going to make sweet music together?"

"Not until you've mastered your instrument," she said, pushing him off her.

"But babe, I'm a virtuoso," he grinned.

"Trouble is, you've been fiddling with half the orchestra," she countered. "Your bow's probably gone saggy by now."

Everyone laughed along, including Cook. I liked the way Katie fit into my little family, and it was the truth when I'd told her that I wanted to keep her around. Maybe her and Cook would hit it off and we could all play happily ever after, like some Shakespearean comedy ending where everyone gets married even if they've hated each other until five minutes before the end of the play. I allowed myself to dally with that cosy little fantasy for a while, before forming a back up plan. Even if it wasn't Cook, Katie was a very attractive woman and she would find herself someone soon, and everything would be alright. Ce danger n'était que de passage.

.

.

.

But then there were the nights. Freddie was kissing my neck, and running his hands up and down my body.

"Jesus Effy, you were amazing," he murmured.

It wasn't unusual for us to fuck when we got back from a show. It's always difficult to come down, and sex was an ideal way to extend the feeling, to release the energy that still burned in our bodies from the thrill.

"You look so beautiful when you…"

I kissed him just to shut him up. I couldn't bear to hear him say it. Freddie was easily satisfied by my display of passion.

"I love you," he said once I released him.

He didn't expect me to say it back. He had learned that it wasn't my way. I had always used my body to show him what he meant to me. I could be far more eloquent that way than I could be with words. He was sleepy, but his soft brown eyes still burned with adoration as they gazed into mine. Shame they were the wrong brown eyes. Putain d'esti, Effy, non. They were the right brown eyes. Hers were the wrong brown eyes. So very fucking wrong. Freddie's eyelids were drifting closed and I could tell it wouldn't be long before he was asleep with his arms still wrapped around me. I started to panic. I didn't want him to leave me alone. I didn't want him to leave me alone with her. I knew she was waiting on the fringes of my consciousness, just waiting for the slightest lapse in concentration before invading my mind with her impossible gorgeousness. Comme elle l'avait fait lorsqu'il était encore en moi. As Freddie's breathing slowed and the last vestiges of consciousness eluded him, I tried to fill my mind with flight data, making mental lists of lift charge timings and burst ratios. Picking random pieces of music and designing pyro for them in my head. Anything to keep busy, anything to keep her out. For it seemed that Katie was a creature of the night too, and tonight she was haunting me worse than ever. She had slipped into my head in a moment of vulnerability, and though the moment itself had been beautiful, it had still shocked me.

What's on Effy's blackboard tonight?

"I must not think about Katie Ford to make me come."

.

.

.

LEARN FRENCH WITH HYPES AND FROGGIE

Here's what Effy says this chapter, including some things you wouldn't learn in French class….

1. J'ai toujours été un oiseau de nuit. - I am and always have been a creature of the night.

2. Une créature aussi féroce ne peut pas être restreinte trop longtemps.('trop longtemps' - A beast this ferocious cannot be caged forever.

3. La nuit m'a montré ses dents. - the night showed me her teeth.

4. Je voulais créer des choses incroyablement belles, des choses a couper le souffle. - I wanted to make things that were unutterably beautiful, things that truly took your breath away.

5. Y'a des choses qu'il ne valait pas qu'il sache, c'est sûr. - There were definitely some things he was better off not knowing.

6. 'Sans risque, la vie n'est rien.' - 'Without risk, it is impossible to feel truly alive.' The literal translation for the French is 'Without risk, life is nothing' which I like a lot – very Anthea.

7. "Génial," – I asked BlueEyedFrog for an equivalent to Effy's 'sweet' in French, and she gave me several suggestions – this is one of them

8. Elle était resplendissante. - She was magnificent.

9. "Il y a toujours un bouton rouge." - "There'll always be a red button,"

10. J'étais entière. - I was complete.

11. Ce danger n'était que de passage. - This danger would pass.

12. "Twice, salope!" – twice bitch!

13. Putain d'esti – the literal translation for this is some kind of whore – but French people use it like we would use Fuck, Fucking hell, Fuck me and the like

14. Comme elle l'avait fait lorsqu'il était encore en moi. - Just as she had done when he was inside me.


	7. All About Effy

7. All About Effy

Katie

"So, how's the spying going?" asked Emily.

I watched her cheeky little face bobbing about in the Skype window on my laptop. She had moved in with Naomi Diamond to her glamorous Camden flat, and I could hear the blonde shuffling around in the background. Although a part of me was jealous that I was stuck in some shitty little place in Bristol, I couldn't help but smile at how happy and full of life my sister looked these days. Seems like some models were good for something after all.

"Ok, I guess," I shrugged. "I went over there and met them all. They seem nice."

"Any fit lads?" smirked Emily.

"Just cause you've got sex on the brain twenty-four seven, doesn't mean everyone else has," I huffed back at her.

"I'll take that as a yes then," she grinned back unperturbed.

Sometimes I hate the way that she knows me so well.

"They're all fit," I conceded.

"Must be like paradise, Mata Hari," laughed Ems.

"It's not unpleasant," I replied.

"So what about the head honcho? I heard he was some kind of French genius"

"Half French, and definitely a genius…."

"And…?" prompted Emily, sensing I was holding something back.

"And she's a girl," I admitted.

"That's unusual," said Ems, with a hint of surprise in her voice.

"She's an unusual girl," I replied, unable to stop the corners of my mouth curling up into a smile.

"Is she fit?" asked Emily, her eyes full of mischief.

Moments later a hand came into view, and cuffed her playfully round the head.

"What?" complained Emily. "I'm just saying…"

"I'm glad she's found someone who can keep her in line," I said, knowing that Naomi could hear me."

"Someone has to," said Naomi, bringing her head down next to her girlfriend's, and playfully nipping her ear.

"Well," insisted Emily. "Is she fit?"

"Yes," I conceded. "She's very fit."

"So are you going to be pumping her for information?" smirked Emily. "Or do you need me to do it?"

"Oi!" frowned Naomi.

"I think I've got it covered," I said, to save my sister from another thwack round the head. I knew she was teasing. She was completely smitten by the blonde.

"Katie Fitch," said Emily cheekily. Dammit, I knew she'd pick up on that smile. "Are you going to go all bisexual on my ass again?"

"Again? What?" said an astonished Naomi.

"Bit of a dark horse, is our Katie," laughed Emily. "I'm not the first Fitch to shag a top model, you know."

"Oh my God, who was it?" said Naomi excitedly.

"None of your goddam business, Diamond," I told her, knowing damn well she'd get it out of Emily later by nefarious means, but glad that their attention had been diverted from Effy. No such luck.

"So, does she talk to you in French then?" grinned Emily. "That's got to be sexy."

She was like a fucking terrier with a rat whenever she caught a whiff of me liking a girl. It was my own fault really. My bitchy, idiotic sixteen year old self had given her such a hard time when she first came out, she was entitled to any payback she could get. I remembered the massive confusion that had shaken me to my core when I had first discovered my own feelings for Anna, and I was fucking glad Emily had been there for me in a way I had never been for her. I owed her, but I had to nip this in the bud before she started getting any ideas.

"She's got a boyfriend," I said firmly.

"But you like her," said Naomi, those piercing blue eyes cutting into me even through the low resolution of the webcam, reminding me of… I bit my lip and turned away from the screen for a moment as the thought of Effy's eyes overwhelmed me. The way she would look right into me, even when Freddie was in the room.

"That's got to be interesting," said Naomi.

"No, Katie's honourable," said Emily. "She doesn't do adultery."

"And you do?" said Naomi in alarm.

Emily looked like a rabbit in the headlights. I knew she would never cheat on Naomi, but she hasn't always been so squeaky clean.

"I'd never do that to you," she said urgently, taking her lover's face in her hands. "I love you, baby. You're the only one for me."

She kissed her to prove her point, and as the kiss deepened I knew I would soon be forgotten about. Not wanting to perve on my sister snogging her girlfriend, and knowing where that kiss would lead, I shouted 'bye then'. Emily waved in the vague direction of the screen without stopping for breath, and I knew that their passion would overtake them, and disconnected the call.

I stared at the empty screen for a while. Despite myself I couldn't help thinking about Emily and Naomi's kiss. It was like all their kisses. So sensual, so beautiful, so passionate. It had stopped me in my tracks the first time I had seen them kiss on that balcony in Paris, and it still stunned me every time. It seemed like they really were fucking made for each other, and it made me wonder where the hell I was going wrong. I had had that fire with Anna, but she'd been a cheating fucking bitch. I had had that intimacy with Harry, but he'd been a cheating fucking prick. And then there was that kiss with Effy. Her kiss had eclipsed them all. If I closed my eyes I could still fucking taste it, I could still feel every fragment of its luxurious opulence. The deep sensual fizz of it that curled itself round my very bones and promised me so much more. Until she stopped it, because Effy wasn't a cheating fucking whore. The irony of it drove daggers into my heart. I opened my eyes, and looked at the screen again. Shutting down Skype I was treated to an eyeful of my newest wallpaper. It was an image I'd downloaded from Le Coeur Explosif's website. A beautifully layered shot with red flares at ground level, green crossette candles sparkling above them and topped off with two levels of golden shells bursting across the darkness. It was smart, stunning and emotive, just like its creator. Life was a total cunt sometimes.

.

.

.

"So what's the crack, lovely Katiekins?" said Cook. "You want all my secrets? Come and sit on Uncle Cookie's knee, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

He patted his leg like he genuinely expected me to go over there.

"I think I'm fine over here thanks," I told him.

"It's alright Katie," he said soothingly. "Just because I've got a massive cock and loads of sexual experience, there's no need to be intimidated. I'll look after ya."

"So first question," I said firmly. "Are you a complete and utter prick or are there occasional moments when you vaguely resemble a human being?"

Cook threw his head back and howled with laughter.

"You're full of fucking fire, Katie Ford," he said. "I love it."

We were sat in his workshop surrounded by his creations. Giant and fantastical sculptures that were itching to be brought to life in fire and light. Flowers, dragons, and aliens sat next to beautiful abstractions that spoke of a man much deeper than the mask I had seen so far. I didn't mind the banter and the flirting, for despite it's apparent crudeness it was done with nothing but good humour, and I could tell that Cook loved to spar. But I found myself surprisingly keen to assume my Katie Ford persona, and talk to him about his art.

"This," I said, sweeping my arm expansively across the massive room. "This is what I want to know about, not how big your sodding cock is. How does a git like you come to be making stuff as wonderful as this?"

"Well it's all down to Effy really," he said.

"How come everything seems to come down to Effy?" I said, before my brain had caught up with my tongue.

"Because it pretty much does," replied Cook, and from his tone I detected I was going to get my first glimpse of the man behind the façade.

"Metalwork at school," he scoffed. "It's where they put all the stupid boys, the boys who won't behave themselves, the boys they don't think are good enough for anything else. It's supposed to keep you quiet making stupid bits of furniture or mending cars until you are old enough for them to get rid of you. But it did something else entirely for me. I fucking loved it, you know, getting my hands dirty and making something out of nothing. I used to stay there after school and practice with the welder, just picking up all the old bits of metal and putting them together in any odd old shape I could. I just wanted to make it perfect, I mean welding is an art, man. Anybody can do it crudely, but there's an art to making it beautiful. The mixtures of the gases, the deftness of your touch, you gotta be fucking subtle, know what I mean?"

"I never knew there was so much to it," I said.

I had seen guys welding stuff back at Dad's place, but I had never heard anyone talk about it with such love.

"Let me show you something," said Cook, standing up and reaching out his hand.

"As long as it's not your cock," I said dubiously.

"No, it's my heart," he laughed. "Well, Effy's heart to be more precise."

This I had to fucking see.

He led me across the workshop to the back corner, where there was a little room partitioned off. Inside there was a sofa, a desk, a tv with a playstation, and a filing cabinet.

"My little bolt hole," said Cook. "My escape from the big bad world."

He grabbed a sculpture from the top of the filing cabinet and placed it on the desk.

"This is the first thing I ever made that was for me," he said. "Just after me and Freddie met Effy."

The piece was about half a metre tall made from bits of steel rod about half a centimetre thick. The rod curled round to make a stable base, and then drove upwards to form a two dimensional heart. From the centre of the heart another series of rods drove outwards in all directions with explosive intensity as if the heart could not contain the fever that burned inside it. It was a simple motif but it was dynamic and surprisingly eloquent. Instinctively I reached out to touch it, as if the contact could connect me directly to that force, but stopped before I got there realising I didn't have permission.

"It's ok," said Cook. "You're not going to break it. It's tough. Just like she is."

I let my fingers trail across the metal, and felt a forbidden thrill as if I was touching her by touching the image she'd inspired.

"You didn't give it to her?" I asked.

"Like I said, it wasn't for her. It was for me," he answered. "It was like I saw her and then I saw this in my head. It was like I had to make it. I went for lessons one time, and instead of working on a stupid table frame, I gathered loads of scrap from the workshop floor. I didn't really plan it. I just sort of let it happen as I made it. I got a bollocking from the teacher, but I didn't care. I knew I'd made something good, and I got a fucking buzz off it."

"Did you show it to her?" I asked.

"Not at first," he said. "But it was like I'd opened some kind of tap or something. After that I just couldn't stop the ideas coming. The dicksplash that ran our class kept getting on my case, so I nicked one of the welders from school and started making stuff in the backyard at home."

"You nicked a fucking welder?" I said.

"I was young," shrugged Cook. "I was already labelled a useless cunt and I couldn't give a fuck. The only thing I cared about was making stuff, even if I didn't know what it was for."

"You didn't come from an artistic background?"

"Nah," laughed Cook. "I came from a useless fuck background. Art was just something posh people did. It wasn't until Effy saw my stuff that it even occurred to me I was doing it too. I was all set to leave school and become a useless waste of space like my Dad, but Effy kind of became my champion. She took on the school and got me transferred to an art class. She taught me how to talk about it, but in a way that was true to my own voice. She made me go to sixth form college with her, and gave me the confidence to apply to art school. By the time she went away, I was a different guy from the one she met, and I'll never forget her for it."

"Wow," I said, in genuine admiration.

"It was the same for all of us," said Cook. "We were fifteen and in our last year of middle school when she gatecrashed into our lives and for the next three years she wreaked havoc over them, but not one of us would give her up for the world. Me and Freds already knew each other, but she found Thomas on the street. He'd only just gotten here from the Congo, but he'd already been beaten to crap and robbed by some racist knobbers. He was a scrawny little thing in them days, and his English wasn't that good. He must have thought she was an angel from fucking heaven when she found him and spoke to him in his own language. She took him to the hospital and then she took him home, even made Anthea and Jim take him in for a while, till he could get on his feet. Thommo's a survivor though, a gifted little bugger too, but again it was Effy that made it all happen for him."

"So is she _actually_ an angel fallen down from heaven?" I said, shaking my head. These stories of Effy the teenage philanthropist were starting to make me swoon. How did she get to be so fucking perfect?

"Closest thing you'd get to one, I'd reckon," said Cook. "Though the fallen part is probably as important as the angel part.

"How so?" I asked, intrigued.

"Effy has a dark side," he replied.

"Everyone has a dark side," I countered, knowing that mine usually resulted in fists colliding with faces.

"Yeah well, some people's dark sides are just light grey, whereas others..." he trailed off, and I could sense he was wary of exposing his friend. I stared at him awaiting elaboration, but none was forthcoming.

"She's a good person, Katie," he said. "Strong, intelligent, beautiful, driven. She seems to have a knack of bringing out the best in people. She's so fucking talented, and beneath that cool ass mask of hers she's one of the most altruistic people I know. She always seems to be able to see the good in others, even if she can't see it in herself."

"Really?" I said, inquisitively. The Effy I'd encountered had always seemed so sure of herself.

"And on top of all that, she's a mint fucking shag," smirked Cook.

"And you would know this how?" I said sternly, squirming inwardly at the thought of Freddie bragging about sex with Effy to his mates.

"Because I fucked her," grinned Cook smugly, as though he was just telling me he'd won an Olympic gold.

It was a suckerpunch that forced all the air from my lungs. Cook had fucked her. Cook had fucked my Effy

"What?" said Cook cheekily in response to my obvious speechlessness. "You don't see something that beautiful without at least trying to have a go now, do you?"

He had me there. I had definitely tried to have a go myself, but she had rejected me. Why the fuck had she fucked Cook?"

"You fucked your mate's girl?" I said incredulously.

"They weren't together back then," Cook assured me. "That was a long time coming."

"Were you in love with her?" I asked, my eyes flicking back to the heart on the table.

"Nah," said Cook. "Well maybe a little, but there didn't really seem much point."

"Because of Freddie?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Cook laughed to himself.

An uneasy silence fell between us then. Cook seemed to drift off back into some distant memory, and I was desperately trying to flush away the images of him and Effy together that insisted on stamping themselves across my consciousness. For some reason they were far more vital than anything my brain could throw up for her and Freddie. I had no trouble at all in imagining an aggressive physical passion between Effy and Cook, and it burned me until it felt like it was stripping away my very flesh. My brain knew that she was not and could never be mine, but my heart seemed to have already staked an ownership without my consent, and my jealousy was drawing nails down the blackboard of my soul. It took a superhuman effort not to turn and run out of the building, but I couldn't risk exposing myself. It wasn't Cook's fault. He couldn't know that his natural pride in nailing a hot girl was shredding my guts where I stood. Just as the hot-blooded fury that was Katie Fitch was threatening to make an appearance, I remembered my alter-ego, and mild-mannered art loving Katie Ford stepped back into the room.

"So how did you get here?" I asked, wandering back out into the main space. "How did a bunch of teenage tearaways become Le Coeur Explosif?"

"That was a long time coming too," said Cook. "Effy's parents broke up when she was just eighteen. Her brother Tony stayed here cause he was already at university, but Effy ended up going back to France with her Mum."

"That must have been hard for you," I said.

"It was a fucking blessing in disguise," said Cook. "I'm not sure she would have survived without it."

"What?" I said in alarm.

Cook looked at me guiltily, as if he had let way too much slip.

"Maybe I should just shut the fuck up now," he said.

Jesus Christ no, I couldn't let him stop there. I had to find a way to make him trust me.

"It's ok," I said reaching over and putting my hand on his arm. "I'm writing an academic paper, not a tabloid exposé. I would never do anything to hurt Effy."

I stared at him with my very best Puss in Boots eyes, hoping could see the sincerity in them, because despite all of my other lies what I had just said was true. I would never do anything to hurt Effy. I fucking couldn't. It would destroy me. I could almost see the cogs turning in Cook's head, as he tried to figure out if he should continue. It seemed as if he really wanted to, as if this was something he had wanted to get off his chest for a while, but still he hesitated. I wasn't particularly proud of what I did next, but it had been my tried and tested method of getting what I wanted for years now. I stepped away from him as if I was relinquishing my hold, but I simply found the nearest work surface and leaned down over it, resting on my elbows and offering him the most fabulous view down my top. I watched his eyes slide down from my face to my chest, and he took a deep breath. It seemed that for Cook, like for most men, having mint tits was a sure fire indicator of your trustworthiness.

"Effy was in a bad way," he said. "Though she'd somehow managed to push three of the most unworthy lads towards decent grades and a chance at a better education, she had also somehow managed to completely cock up her own. Something was eating away at her, and it was sending her over the edge. Most people wanted to blame it on the tension between her parents, but I think there was something more, and I don't think we were doing anything to help her. She was drinking, she was taking shit loads of drugs."

"She still drinks and takes shit loads of drugs," I said, remembering our night at the Old Library.

"No, I'm talking _stupid_ amounts of drugs," insisted Cook. "She was off her fucking head every day, and drinking neat vodka like it was water. Of course we were all still young and stupid, and most people just seemed to build up this dumb fucking cult around her. They thought she was badass. They fucking admired the fact that she was so much wilder than the rest of them, like she was some fucking rockstar destined to wake up in a pile of her own vomit. They totally bought into the mysterious fucking cool shit. But some of the things she was doing… It was painful to watch, man. Like she had found a whole room of self-destruct buttons and pressed them all at once. If Anthea hadn't taken her away when she did…"

Cook looked at me seriously, leaving the implications to my own imagination.

"But she's ok now?" I asked tentatively.

"Three years later, we got the boys back together, having a big celebration that we'd all somehow managed to graduate. We were in our old pub, sinking beers and trying to work out what to do next with our lives. Freddie suggested that we form a band. He was always coming up with daft schemes to keep the group together. I think he kind of viewed it as Effy's legacy. We were debating what we should call ourselves, when we heard the most beautiful sound. It was her, telling us that being a band was the fucking lamest thing she'd ever heard and that only Thommo had any musical talent out of the lot of us. I think every last one of us spilled our pints in surprise. We had invited her on Facebook, but we'd never expected her to turn up out of the blue like that. She looked stunning. Grown up, mature, but most of all in control. There was a fire in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a long time. We'd got our angel back."

There was pure pride in Cook's eyes as he spoke. If nothing else, Effy was capable of inspiring intense loyalty. He loved her, and had done so for years.

"So Freds asked her if a band was so lame did she have any better ideas. 'Yes,' she said, drawing up a chair and downing the rest of his pint for him. 'I think we should become a pyrotechnics company.' It turned out she was serious, and we stayed up the whole of the fucking night just buzzing off it. Took us another four years to get it together though. We worked at shitty jobs to raise the money. We all went off to hassle other pyro companies for work experience. It was a slog, but now that Effy was back, it was like the Muse had struck us all again. She was so fucking certain, she just kept us all going, even when she got the chance with Groupe TLC, and fucked off to France again. Me and the lads started doing smaller gigs with the fire sculptures and that, and starting to make inroads into the scene. She started coming back between TLC stuff to do shows with us, until finally we managed to land that Mayfest gig with Maxxie, and that was enough to bring her back for good. And here we are, finally living the fucking dream."

"Harsh times to be starting a new business in," I stated.

"You've got to fucking believe, man," said Cook. "If you don't have that, what the fuck have you got?"

Yeah, Katie what the fuck have you got? I looked at the man in front of me and realised he was the embodiment of happiness. However uncertain the future might be, he had his Muse and his dreams to inspire him. I had pissed on my dreams, and now all I had was an obsessional crush on a woman I could never have.

"So what did she do for Freddie?" I asked Cook.

"Say what?" he asked in reply.

"Well she gave you your art, she gave Thomas his start in this country," I said. "What did she do for Freddie?"

"Let him love her I suppose," smiled Cook casually. "Finally stopped being such a complete fucking whore."

I felt my face flush and my eyes widen in surprise. His words might have been harsh, but they were laced with nothing but affection.

"A whore?" I said nervously.

"A complete and fucking whore," grinned Cook. "How else do you think I got a look in? She could have anyone she wanted, and trust me, she fucking well did. Told you she had a dark side, well the girl was a fucking animal."

"Oh," I said breathlessly.

"Freds pretty much fell in love with her the day he laid eyes on her, but Effy was having none of it. Effy was a huntress, and he just wanted to lay down and die for her. Effy wanted the thrill of the chase. We had some times, me and her, heading off into the night with one thing on our minds. Well two things actually, getting laid and getting wasted, and we were very good at both of them. I mean, we were always her boys, but the trails of heartbroken men she left behind her, everyone of them hoping they could be the man to tame her. But there was no taming Effy, man. She was fucking feral, and she loved fucking sex. It wasn't just blokes either. Jesus, there were times when I thought she got more pussy than I did. Some nights she'd let me share though, and that was fucking sweet. Good times, Katie. Good times."

Oh great, now I would have to try and cope with the mental image of Effy and Cook in a threesome. This history lesson was beginning to look like a seriously bad move on my part, but still I couldn't let it lie.

"So what the fuck happened?" I said, barely controlling my emotions. "I mean they seem really together."

"No one really knows," shrugged Cook. "One day Freddie came back from visiting her in France with the biggest fucking smile on his face, and declaring that he and Effy were finally together. I mean Thommo and I didn't believe it. We thought she'd just eventually relented and given him a pity shag, and she'd be back fucking half of France before his plane had even taken off. But it turned out it was for real. I think she might have had one or two lapses in the early days, but after that she was playing the good girlfriend."

Is that what she was doing? Playing?

"What made her change her mind?" I said.

"I don't know," laughed Cook. "He'd been trying to get in her pants for eight fucking years. Maybe he just wore her down in the end."

This new information was like a fucking lit match in the pyro store of my heart. I had tried to wrap everything in steel based on the evidence that Effy was a good girlfriend who loved her man, and that whatever had happened between us was a momentary lapse in judgement at best. But Cook had sneaked under my radar with an incendiary device, and now one wrong move would set off a chain reaction of fatally dangerous detonation. So who was the real Effy? The good girlfriend or the complete fucking whore? And which one of them had kissed me that night? The good girlfriend who could have loved me if we had met when she was free? Or the sexual animal who was simply reverting to type? Was I a fool for thinking I had felt something more than either of those things? Now that I knew that the good girlfriend was Effy in chains, did I want to keep her there, or did I want to release her? Could I handle the consequences if I did? But in the end my foolish heart pushed me toward the only question that really seemed to matter to me any more.

"Is she happy?" I asked Cook, no longer trying to hide the fact that this whole fucking conversation had been all about Effy.

"She says she is," he said, in a tone that made me think he doubted it. "Sometimes I think she's only ever truly happy when she's got her finger on the firing button."

"Hardly grand passion then, is it?" I said involuntarily.

"I'm not entirely sure she's capable of it," said Cook.

I thought back to the sculpture he kept hidden in his private den. You are lying Mr Cook, I thought. You have seen her explosive heart.


	8. The Silent Language Of Her Eyes

**So, firstly and most importantly, SJ was well enough to email me herself this week, and I literally cried with happiness. It was so amazing to hear from her directly again. The experience doesn't seemed to have dampened her spirit and her sense of humour any. She is amazing, and so are all of you for your support.**

**Quite a long chapter here, but it might have to keep you going for a while as I am off to France in a couple of days. The things I do for you guys in the name of research, eh?**

**And finally there is a new story, which caught my attention this week. It's called The Skins Games by Tobiko, and is based on the Hunger Games. I've never even read the Hunger Games and I found it fascinating. Definitely worth checking out I think (and the fact that it features a rather fabulous Effy has not influenced me at all, honest).**

**Anyway that's it for now. I wish you joy.**

**Hypes xx**

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8. The Silent Language Of Her Eyes

Effy

I find myself waiting for her. Katie comes over every few days, and from the moment we say goodbye I find myself hungry for the next time I will see her. Even though we're not doing anything particularly spectacular, just drinking tea and having random chats, the day seems so much brighter when she is there. She hasn't even really asked me about the pyro yet, though I know she's been talking with all the boys. I suspect she is trying to avoid being alone with me, trying to make things seem more normal. I don't blame her. I seem unable to control myself around her, and will always end up making some flirty comment if I think I can get away with it, even though I know it's wrong. Sometimes I catch her looking at me, and I know that's not the only side of the story. Both of us are struggling, caught between our desire for friendship and the lust that simmers away beneath the surface. But there are genuinely lovely moments too. I don't know of anyone who makes me laugh quite as much as she does with her forthright, uncompromising and alarmingly down to earth humour. Those beautiful brown eyes don't miss a trick and she never fails to pull us up on our foolishness with some clever comment or other. Her constant sparring with Cook is hilarious, and the more she rebuffs him the more it sparks his interest, and I am torn between wanting them to get together, and my fear of the all too revealing jealously that might unleash.

This morning I found her in the fusing room with Thomas. We have a festival gig at the weekend – one show a night over three nights. It's a fairly confined space without much of a fallout zone, which makes it a challenge. More of a performance type piece with some of Cook's kinetic dragons, and not so much aerial material, but a complex design with lots of fast sequences and intricate rigging. Thomas needed a hand, but Cook was finishing off some pieces for the show, and Freddie had his ear glued to the phone as usual, so I figured it was time to get stuck in. When I saw Katie there, a devilish idea rose from the depths of my mind.

"You should learn how to do fusing," I told her.

"What?" she said, looking back at me incredulously.

"You know, if you really want to understand us, you should try your hand at everything we do," I smiled sweetly.

"Oh yeah, like you're really going to let me fire some shit," she scoffed.

It was an effort to retain my composure at the thought of Katie with all that firepower at her fingertips. Visions of her hitting the Go button in some fabulously inappropriate outfit threatened to overwhelm me. Only years of practice at appearing unemotional could save the day.

"I might do," I said, in a teasing tone that I probably should not have been using in front of Thomas.

"Loser," Katie mouthed towards me silently, indicating that I had been the first to break the no flirting rule today.

"Qu'est-ce que tu en dis Thomas?" I said. "Tu penses que Katie devrait se salir les mains comme nous tous?"

"Qui n'aime pas voir une belle femme se salir un peu?" he grinned.

"Oi, bitches," fumed Katie. "It's one thing ganging up on me, but quite another ganging up on me in French. Cut it the fuck out."

"Seulement si tu me laisses t'apprendre." I said.

"I said cut it the fuck out," she frowned, but her curiosity got the better of her. "What did you say?"

"Only if you let me teach you," I repeated.

She closed her eyes, and I could see she was trying to stop herself from smiling. The illicit thrill of knowing I could affect her like that with nothing but words burst through me like a flash flood after a drought. When Katie opened her eyes again they were ablaze with challenge.

"Reckon you've got something to teach me, do you?" she shot back at me.

Oh the things I want to teach you, beautiful Katie. Toutes les choses que les mauvaises filles font, cachées par la nuit. My mind could have run away with me again, taken me to a wonderful nirvana where Katie and I were free to express the things we felt, but I caught Thomas raising a curious eyebrow at me behind Katie's back, and I knew it was time to cool it down.

"Come on, it's not that hard," I said, grabbing a copy of the rigging plan. "The main firing system is linked to a series of slave modules which are set out across the site. Each slave module has a number, and then thirty-two lines coming out of it. So this number here is the box number, and this number is the line number. All the fireworks have been pulled out of the store and labelled over there."

I pointed to a bunch of boxes in the corner.

"But they need to have igniters put in them, and we do that in different ways depending on the firework and what we need it to do in the show, and then we need to make sure each one is labelled up with the correct address for when we're rigging on site. The best way to learn is just to do it."

"Ok," shrugged Katie noncommittally.

"Let's start simple," I said, grabbing a bundle of single shot candles. "These things fire one load, and I use them for timed chases so each one needs its own igniter."

Thomas had gone back to his own work and put some tunes on, whilst I showed Katie what to do. The candles were fairly small calibre cardboard tubes, with a small hole at the base covered with sellotape. You pierce the sellotape and push the igniter in so that it makes contact with the firing charge at the bottom of the tube, then seal it up again with parcel tape, covering the base and the top of the tube to make them waterproof. I showed Katie a couple of times, and then asked her if she understood. She looked at me with a thinly disguised cynical amusement.

"So you pierce the protection, shove it in hard, make sure it's secure and then wait for the explosion?" she smirked. "I think I can manage that."

"You'd be surprised how many people cock it up," I said, to cover the unwelcome surge of warmth between my legs.

"I'm not just anybody, darling," she said in a low soft voice.

It seemed that once the no flirting rule had been broken for the day, there was little we could do to stop ourselves. Maybe it was better just to let it out, flush it all out of our systems instead of bottling it all up and leaving it there to fester.

Fusing up was normally one of the most tedious parts of our business. It was repetitive and boring, but if it was done badly it could be costly, messing up the timing of sequences or even meaning they failed to fire altogether. Things needed to be connected securely so they didn't pull apart under the force of the previous lift. They needed to be properly sealed so that water didn't get into the joints. And things needed to be neat so that we didn't waste time on site. All of which needed just the right amount of care and attention to stop your mind from drifting too far from the task, but were sufficiently tedious not to fully engage your brain. Normally I hated it, leaving it to the boys if I possibly could, but that morning seemed to pass in a flash as I worked and joked and bantered alongside Katie. It was lovely just being with her, showing her new stuff and watching her work. With Thomas in the room, it was safe and we were able to relax into each other's company without the pressure of wondering which of us might overstep the mark. To be honest, when I first suggested she do some fusing it was more of a joke than anything else. I never imagined she'd have the patience for it, and expected her to be throwing foul-mouthed tantrums within half an hour.

But once again she surprised me, showing an incredible aptitude for the work. I moved her up from the simple shit through to the more complicated sequences, and she seemed to have an instant grasp of the way things were put together. She had an incredibly neat style, and Thomas came over and joked about how she was putting me to shame. To be fair, I was trying to teach her well, and not show her the shortcuts and bad habits I had gotten myself into over the years. She listened intently to what I had to say, and seemed to ask really intelligent questions. I had to smile to myself when I caught her checking a series of shells she had just linked together with quick match and delays. Quick match is black powder in a plastic coated paper tube which can burn at up to a hundred metres a second making a virtually instantaneous fuse. Delays are set to burn at a defined number of seconds, so putting them between each shell in an array means you can fire a timed sequence from one igniter. Obviously getting them in the right order is important, and I watched as Katie mentally traced the path of the fire, making little noises to herself as she went.

"Jzzsh, bang, jzzsh, bang, jzzsh, bang," she muttered under her breath, flicking her fingers outwards at each imagined explosion.

In that moment, every dirty thought I'd ever had about her was buried by a mountain of affection. To my logical brain this should have been a worrying development. Though difficult, lust can be contained, but this was uncharted territory. Les émotions que suscitait la presence de Katie étaient méconnues et dangereuses. I didn't dare to name them in either tongue, for to do that would be to give them a power I did not want them to have. But my logical brain was a weak little soldier in the face of Katie's army of awesomeness, and all I could do was stare at her with a stupid little grin on my face. She finished her fantasy firing sequence, and glanced up catching me red-handed. She blushed slightly as she realised I'd been watching her.

"I just wanted to make sure I got it right," she said shyly. "I wouldn't want to let you down."

"It was cute," I said unashamedly, convinced that Thomas wouldn't hear me over the music. "Only you could make fusing cute."

It wasn't just the coy little smile, it was the way it was the way it lit up her eyes that undid me. Katie's eyes would be the end of me. Peaceful or furious, there was always so much life in them, but the innocent joy that my half arsed flattery had inspired made me shiver. I wanted to reach out and touch her face. Not to possess her, but just to feel the shape of that smile cupped in my hand. She was beyond beautiful. Elle m'avait sous son charme.

"Cocksucking bitchfuck arsefucker!" suddenly erupted from her mouth so violently I was almost knocked over backwards by its force.

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" I asked in alarm.

Katie was dancing around clutching one hand in the other, and grimacing in pain.

"Stings like a motherfucker," she spat.

"Let me see," I said, trying to take her hands.

"Nicked myself with the sodding scissors on that last run," she whined.

"Did you get black powder in it?" asked Thomas, coming over. "That stuff is a total bastard in a cut."

I managed to get a look at her cut. It was only small, but was indeed coated with black powder residue, and I knew from bitter experience how much that hurt.

"Shit that hurts," said Katie, the beginnings of a tear in her eye.

"Come on, let's break for lunch," I said. "And then we can get this cleaned up.

I didn't let go of her hand all the way across the yard, and through the workshop to the kitchen. I ran the tap and tried to remove the gunpowder as gently as I could without hurting her. Her other arm wrapped loosely around my back as I worked, and it felt natural to want to take care of her. For the first time since the Old Library, I felt no guilt at the intimacy. She was my friend and I wanted to look after her, just like I looked after my boys. The delicious aroma of something cooking filled the kitchen, and I felt proud to have her in my home.

"What's up?" asked Cook, coming into the kitchen.

"Black powder," replied Thomas.

"Ouch," said Cook. "That stuff'll get ya every time. Never mind, eh. You'll be right as rain after a bit of feedin'."

"What's for dinner?" asked Thomas enthusiastically. My army certainly marched on its stomach.

"CookieMonster soup," replied Cook.

"That will make you feel better, Katie," smiled Thomas. "Cook est le roi de la soupe."

I dried Katie's hand, and couldn't resist pulling her into a friendly hug. She slipped into my arms so easily. I just wanted to keep her there.

"Guess you're a proper member of the gang now Katie," said Cook. "Now that Effy's taken you under her wing."

I felt her smile against my neck, and a sensation overtook me that it took me several moments to recognise. J'etais contente.

Cook dished out soup and bread and we all sat down and tucked in together.

"You're not wrong Thommo," said Katie. "This soup is gorgeous."

I watched Cook's chest puff out with pride, but before he could take advantage of the compliment Freddie came stumbling into the kitchen.

"How's it going?" he said. "Sorry I couldn't help you with the fusing. I had to finish the proposal for that National Trust gig."

"It's ok," said Thomas. "We have a new secret weapon. Effy taught Katie how to fuse, and she's like a pyro machine."

"Really?" said Freddie, unable to contain his surprise.

"She's a natural," I told him.

"It's just cutting and sticking," said Katie dismissively. "Ok, it's cutting and sticking with explosives, but essentially it's cutting and sticking."

"You'd be surprised at how many people cock it up," said Freddie, echoing my earlier words.

"What can I say?" shrugged Katie. "I got skills."

"You should come with us," blurted Cook excitedly. "To the gig, I mean. Then you'd be able to see some of your handiwork going off."

I felt my stomach tighten in alarm. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with Katie. Some days that was all I wanted to do. But this was a festival gig. And festivals meant drugs. And drugs meant uncaged Effy. And we certainly hadn't finished that 'getting each other out of our system' thing yet. I glanced over at Freddie, hoping he'd say he wouldn't be able to get us another ticket.

"Um, I don't know if that's really possible…" he said hesitantly, much to my relief.

"Oh don't be a funsponge, Freddie," said Cook. "I'm sure we've got room for a gorgeous woman."

"Umm," Freddie dithered, causing my eyes to cloud with anger. He was such a useless cunt sometimes.

"Have you got a tent, Katiekins?" asked Cook. "Cause you know you'd be more than welcome to share mine."

"A tent? As in camping?" said Katie with a look of horror on her face.

"Yeah," said Cook. "It's a festival, like."

"Like with mud? And no showers?" she frowned. "And hippies?"

Oh Katie, you gorgeous little diva.

"I take it that's a no then," I smiled.

"Have you seen the fucking weather forecast?" she said scathingly.

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The weather was apocalyptic, and I stood in the pissing rain, staring at the sorry excuse for a tent that Freddie had brought with us and wondering where the hell I could go to smoke a fucking cigarette. Outside our fenced off compound the grass was already churning up into mud as the weary looking festival goers trampled their way in search of a place to pitch. The day had been a grim one. We had spent all day working in the rain. It wasn't like we had a choice, the first show was tomorrow night and we had to construct the site ready to drop in the live tomorrow. I cursed myself that I had made the show so complex, with all this extra infrastructure to build as well as the regular pyro kit. My eyes scanned my near horizons still looking for a refuge from the wet. The back of the truck was out of the question, we still had all the live in there, and though it was boxed and sealed and it would have been perfectly safe for me to smoke in there, it was obviously frowned upon, and if any festival safety officers caught me we'd be stuffed. My gaze fell jealously on the canvas palace in front of me. Large and sturdy, and looking smugly water repellent I had hardly expected it to come along with the woman whose response to the idea of camping had been to look as if we had asked her to swim through sewage.

Yes, Katie was here. Halfway through the week, Thomas had received the sad news that his uncle had fallen seriously ill, and he had had to take his mother back out to the Congo to see him. There was no question of not letting him go, but that left us needing a replacement at very short notice. Once again it was Cook that suggested Katie. At first I was reluctant, thinking we should at least try to get someone with some experience, but as Freddie pointed out, I had already called her a natural and she had fused half the shows. In the end I gave in and asked her, fully expecting her response to be another scathing rebuttal. I hadn't expected concerned face. Concerned face made me feel all warm and cared for. I liked concerned face.

"Are you up shit creek?" she asked me softly.

"Pretty much," I shrugged. "I suppose we could manage, but it would be pretty tough, what with the rain and everything."

I bit my lip at that last comment. I was supposed to be trying to persuade her, not putting her off. But rain was the fucking enemy. It made everything twice as slow and three times as difficult.

"Then I'll do my best to help," said Katie willingly.

Although I was massively relieved, there was a dark part of me that had been secretly looking forward to watching Katie trying to cope with the conditions. I had expected tirades of wonderful swearing, some stellar sulking and more than a few tantrums, but out of all of us I think Katie was the least whiny of the lot, knuckling down and getting on with the jobs in hand without complaining.

"Well I'm here now," she shrugged when I called her out on it. "There's no point in making things any more miserable for myself. Besides you needed me, so what could I do?"

Her voice made it clear that she meant me, Effy, rather than the company as a whole, but in my head they were one and the same thing. Either way, I was glad that she was here. She coped admirably with the weather, but then again, she had made sure she had the stuff for it, starting with that classy assed tent. Of course she had barely had to lift a finger to put it up, what with Gentleman Cook making a sudden reappearance and practically doing the whole thing for her. And then while the rest of us were slobbing about the place in tatty boots and mud-caked old waterproofs, Katie was a vision in fitted Barbour and Gortex, her feet adorned in glossy red Hunters decorated with fake buckles and even a hint of a wedged heel. Topped off with a classy Russian style hat, she looked more like she was off to an outdoor fetish party than a scuzzy pyro site. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if she'd had rubber underwear on underneath all that lot.

Ok, mind back from the dark place Effy, you've got smoking to do. I wrote my mental lines for the day as I headed off for the crew-catering tent. We weren't supposed to smoke in there, but what were they gonna do? The need for nicotine was becoming urgent as I filled my imaginary blackboard and failed miserably at its instructions.

I must not think about Katie in rubber underwear.

The rain pounded on throughout the evening. We had managed to find ourselves a nice little cabaret tent to hide in, and passed the evening with a few beers and spliffs to enhance the entertainment. Nothing too crazy mind, we had a big day tomorrow and I needed to be on form, especially with a man down and only a welly-booted princess as his replacement. Freddie was being sweet and funny and affectionate, and it was a relief to be able to focus most of my attention on him without the underlying feelings of resentment that were becoming more and more common these days. It was nice to be able to look back into the love swollen eyes of my boyfriend and be reminded of why I had finally let him in, in the first place.

"You're looking lovely tonight, Eff," he said as he came back from the bar with another couple of beers.

"Seriously?" I said, gesturing down at my multiple layers of work clothes.

"You always look lovely to me honey," he smiled and kissed me.

"You soppy bastard," I said, and pulled him back for a deeper exchange of lips.

"That's the way love is," he smiled looking ever so pleased with himself. "Speaking of which, it's nice to see those two getting on so well, isn't it?"

I followed his gaze over to where Cook and Katie were laughing and flirting together, obviously enjoying each other's company. No Freddie, that's not how love is. Love is a bastard. Love is brutal and nasty and indiscriminately cruel. L'amour est un tyran vicieux. Love can shred soft and fluffy feelings in an instant, and abandon your miserable beaten carcass, laughing its fucking head off. I shouldn't have cared. I know I shouldn't have cared. I had my man, and was it so fucking wrong for Katie to find hers too? Even if they didn't turn out to be love's young dream, at least she'd get a damn good shag out of him. But I did care. I fucking hated it. I had no right to hate it but I did. I watched as he cleverly slipped a hand onto her knee, and my blood boiled within my veins at the amount of time she left it there before giving him one of her stares. Cook withdrew the offending body part, but his eyes were smiling as he knew he'd sneaked a little closer to the treasure he was hunting. And Cook was a very fine hunter. He'd seduced me all those years ago with that boyish smile and that 'fuck the world' attitude. I knew him. I knew the way he worked. I knew how effective his seemingly apeish methods could be. I also knew he wouldn't give up.

Freddie had turned his attention back to the stage. He didn't care that I was staring at them. Staring was what I did. He probably figured I was trying to work out what was going on between them, which to be fair was exactly what I was doing. What he didn't know was that my discoveries would release such toxic venom in me. My only hope had been that Katie was impervious to Cook's charms, but I saw it in her eyes when she smirked at him. She fucking fancied him. Maybe not as much as she fancied me, but she was looking for distraction and Cook was a natural entertainer.

My eyes were dragged back to the stage as the next act was announced. It was a tongue in cheek theatrical burlesque routine, where the dancer was playing some kind of space heroine who had been captured by aliens, and her dance was a way of distracting them so she could escape. It was funny as well as sexy, and the dancer was attractive, which needless to say had both of the boys staring bug-eyed at the show as she worked her way through the strip. To be fair, I would have been watching too had I not felt the presence of a pair of curious brown eyes burning scorch marks into the side of my head. I turned to face her and found her smirking at me. Ok, so she had caught me looking. I may be good, but I am not a fucking saint. She flicked her gaze down to our enraptured boys and rolled her eyes at their Pavlovian drooling. It made me smile, but I knew I wasn't much better. I let my attention drift back to the stage, and then shrugged as if to say I couldn't exactly blame them. The dancer was down to bra and knickers now, and there was no denying she was fit. Katie grinned and gave her a thorough checking out, nodding her head in approval. But when she turned back, she allowed herself the luxury of doing exactly the same thing to me. She let her eyes drift slowly over ever inch of me, a heavy glint of desire radiating from her irises turning them into small brown suns. Even covered in thick boots and jumpers, I felt naked under her gaze. The air in the tent seemed to turn dry and hot, despite the conditions outside, and I had to open my mouth to take a few quick gasps of much needed oxygen. My traitorous pulse started dancing to its own beat, and that beat was nosebleed techno. Katie looked between me and the nearly naked performer, who had just revealed a fabulous set of fluorescent pink nipple tassels, before settling on my face. She broke into a delicious self-effacing smile. I had no difficulty in deciphering the silent language of her eyes. That girl might be beautiful, she said. But she's not as beautiful as you. Ok, so maybe love wasn't such a bastard after all, cause in Katie's mind a scantily clad erotic performer was nothing compared to a mud-caked Effy in a baggy jumper and waterproofs.

Later that night I woke up screaming. I'd been having a nightmare where ugly looking fish monsters were trying to smother me with their slimy wet webbed hands. As I fought my way back to consciousness I screamed again against a sloppy wet material that was covering my face.

"Jesus, Effy. Are you ok?" came Freddie's concerned voice through the darkness.

"Bordel de merde! Qu'est-ce qui se passe, putain?" I yelled, flailing my arms to try to get this shit the fuck off me.

"Relax honey, it's just the tent," he said soothingly, and I felt him peeling the canvas off me.

"What the fuck is wrong with it?" I spat.

"It kinda collapsed," said Freddie sheepishly.

Outside I could hear the repetitive thudding of yet more heavy rain and the scream of a vicious wind. Fuck's sake, I could hear it inside as well, for our cheap and nasty piece of canvas had ceased to be a shelter, and had become a slimy clinging coffin. I felt a panic start to grip me and I shoved Freddie out of my way as I frantically tried to find the exit.

"Calm down, Eff…" he started, but quickly shut up when my elbow connected with something that felt like his face. I didn't stop to see if he was ok, I just needed to get out of there. I finally found the zip and yanked it open crawling out into the mud in desperation. I sat there on my haunches taking in great lungfuls of air, and trying to calm my racing senses as the rain relentlessly finished its job of soaking me to the skin. Freddie emerged from the wreck of our temporary home moments later.

"Are you ok, babe?" he asked.

"Do I look fucking ok?" I yelled at him.

He knew better than to take me on, and simply dived back into the chaos to retrieve our bags. Thankfully I hadn't gotten round to unpacking, so my clothes were mostly dry, but our sleeping bags were a sodden mess.

"Fucking great," I snarled. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Freddie reached out to touch me, but I batted his hand away aggressively.

"I told you that piece of shit wasn't up to it," I spat.

I don't normally lose my temper like that, but I was still shaken up from the nightmare.

"It's just rain," he said reasonably. "It feels shit now, but we've been through worse and survived it. We just need to find somewhere to sleep, and we can sort it all out in the morning."

I narrowed my eyes at his logic, but he was right. Screaming at him in the mud wasn't going to solve anything. I span around and weighed up our options. Cook's tent was sturdy but it was small, and I didn't fancy trying to get changed in there, let alone being squashed between the two boys. Then there was Katie's gleaming edifice. When I'd asked her where she got it she merely shrugged and said her dad was 'outdoorsy'. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in that moment. It had a porch, a living area and a whole separate bedroom. It seemed to laugh in the face of the wind and the rain, and it was almost as if it was singing to me. I hesitated for a moment. Would it be too much of an imposition? But then I thought of the reverse position. If I was faced with a wet and bedraggled Katie, it would be impossible for me to turn her away.

I dragged myself upright and walked over there, calling her name as I went. It didn't take long before a light went on inside and I heard the sound of the zip being opened. Light poured out into my miserable darkness, and Katie knelt before me in a long vest and a pair of shorts. I don't think I had ever looked at her as hungrily as I did right then. Not because I wanted her, but because she was soft and warm and dry and she cared about me, and all I wanted to do was throw myself into the comfort of her arms and stay there till the storm had passed, and the sun could kiss my body again.

"Jesus Eff, what happened to you?" she said taking in my drowned rat appearance.

"Our tent kinda fell down," said Freddie, appearing at my side.

"Well don't just stand there, come on in," she said warmly.

The inside of Katie's tent looked like she camped professionally. She had all the right gadgets and cooking stuff, a little table and chairs, proper little camping lanterns and shit, as if she had learned to do camping from a book. Hell, she even had a fluffy rug down at one end of her living space. I threw myself down next to it and searched roughly through my bag for stuff to change into, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto its welcoming surface, but not daring to deface it with my filthy clothes. Katie disappeared into her bedroom bit, before re-emerging with a massive pink towel, which she wrapped around my shoulders.

"Do you think we might be able to stay here tonight?" said Freddie. "There's not much left of our tent."

"Of course," she said warmly. "It's not like I don't have the room."

"I'll go back and get our sleeping bags," offered Freddie. "And then we can sleep out here."

"What's the point?" I huffed. "They're fucking soaked. We'll just have to try to sleep under our coats or something."

"Don't be daft," said Katie, lowering her eyes slightly. "I have a double airbed. I'm sure we can all squeeze in."

"If you're sure," said Freddie.

"No problem," she shrugged. "I'll let you guys get changed, and then just come and join me when you're ready."

Freddie and I got changed in silence until I caught him rummaging around in his rucksack until he extracted a tin.

"Goodnight spliff?" he said, shaking it in my direction.

"No, I don't want a fucking spliff," I said, shaking my head. "I just want to get some fucking sleep."

What I wanted to do was get in there first to make sure I was the one sleeping next to Katie. Of course I didn't sleep a wink. How the fuck was I supposed to do that with her just lying there so close to me? I lay on my back in between them listening to the twin sets of breathing of my boyfriend and the girl I was sexually obsessed with. I had to keep telling myself that. That this thing with Katie was all about the sex. Just a manifestation of my old self, coming out and wanting what I couldn't have. Yes, I loved being around her. Yes, she made me laugh and forget myself sometimes. Yes, we enjoyed perfect silences together. And yeah, so we seemed to be able to communicate without speech. And her smile could make me feel good for the rest of the day. And yes, I missed her when she wasn't there. And ok, so I found her eyes endlessly fascinating. Admittedly, although I did spend an inappropriate amount of time wondering what it would be like to fuck her, there was another inappropriate amount of time just spent imagining lying in her arms whilst we listened to music or read to each other. But surely these were just the trappings of friendship. A really cool and amazing friendship. And the sex thing was kind of separate from that.

And I was just a stupidly bad liar, wasn't I? I rolled onto my side and stared at her sleeping form as the beginnings of the day threw a gloomy light through the canvas. She was so fucking beautiful. Twice already tonight I had used the word love when I thought about the way she made me feel. Fuck me, I was falling for her. And not comfortable safety net love like it was with Freddie either. This was dirty love. The kind of love that could rip your head off. And I didn't know what the hell I was going to do about it. Staring at her face didn't offer me any solutions either, but it was like I was hypnotised. I couldn't look away. I abandoned myself to it. I made a study of her face in the slow emergence of daylight. I made a note for myself of every tiny detail each time she shifted in her sleep, like we were locked in some elaborate time based art installation, the sleeper and the observer, where every second was as important as the next. Was it minutes? Or maybe over an hour? I was locked into my role, barely able to even blink, when suddenly I got the shock of my life.

Her eyes shot open and locked with mine. Not in a sleepy falling back into consciousness way, but clear and already focussed, as if she had been awake the whole time. Had she been aware of the way I'd been looking at her? The slightest of smiles curved its way across her lips, but her eyes remained unwavering. The depth of her study was every bit as profound as mine had been. We watched each other silently, not touching, but the lack of it did nothing to assuage the feeling of intense intimacy. I felt exposed. In all of my endless physical encounters, I had never communicated this closely with another human being. Usually I observed others, learning their secrets, their hopes and their fears, discovering their lies without the need for words, but this was the first time anyone had ever done it to me. It was terrifying, but at the same time, I felt a release of something I'd kept walled up inside myself for years. Some people thought they got the measure of me in an instant. Some people spent a little longer before they formed their opinions. Personne n'avait jamais regardé assez longtemps et d'assez près pour découvrir la verité. Katie looked like she was learning me, discovering things that I would never reveal in the normal course of the day. And it looked as though she liked what she found.

She rolled herself onto her front, and propped herself up on her elbows, continuing to stare down at me with that same beautifully calm half-smile on her face. My heart should have been racing, my body fizzing with lust at the proximity and the intensity of her gaze. But instead all the sexual tension seemed to dissipate from my body. My limbs grew relaxed and my breathing steady. This moment wasn't about that. This moment was about something else. It was electrifying and yet peaceful at the same time. Katie's eyes flickered, as she seemed to reach some kind of decision. She leaned down slowly and pressed her lips ever so softly and gently against mine, keeping her eyes open the whole time. There was the briefest of movements as she brought them together turning it into an active kiss, but almost before I could even register it, she had pulled away again. I closed my eyes for barely a second trying to recall the sensation, but by the time I opened them again she was already turning over to lie with her back to me. With Freddie sleeping on obliviously behind me, I knew what I had to do. It was imperative that I did not let this moment go. Tentatively, I shifted my own position and slipped my arm gently around her waist. She didn't push me away. She shuffled herself backwards until I could feel the heat of her all the way down the embrace, and I knew that something profound had shifted between us. Tomorrow would be a different kind of day. And finally, nourished by something I had been unwittingly starving for my whole life, I fell peacefully and blissfully into sleep.

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What Effy and Thomas say…

1. "Qu'est-ce que tu en dis Thomas?" I said. "Tu penses que Katie devrait se salir les mains comme nous tous?"

"What do you think Thomas?" I said. "Do you think Katie should get her hands dirty like the rest of us?"

2. "Qui n'aime pas voir une belle femme se salir un peu?" he grinned.

"Who doesn't like to see a woman getting dirty?" he grinned.

3. "Seulement si tu me laisses t'apprendre."

- "Only if you let me teach you," I said.

4. Toutes les choses que les mauvaises filles font, cachées par la nuit.

All the things the bad girls do in the depths of night.

5. Les émotions que suscitait la presence de Katie étaient méconnues et dangereuses. - The feelings that were starting to accompany the presence of Katie were unknown and dangerous.

6. Elle m'avait sous son charme. - She was simply enchanting.

7. "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" - "What's wrong?"

8. "Cook est le roi de la soupe." – "Cook is the king of soup."

9. J'etais contente. – I was happy

10. L'amour est un tyran vicieux. - Love is a vicious bully.

11. "Bordel de merde! Qu'est-ce qui se passe, putain?" - "Fuck's sake. What the fuck is this fucking shit?"

12. Personne n'avait jamais regardé assez longtemps et d'assez près pour découvrir la verité.

No one had ever looked long enough and hard enough to find the truth.


	9. Pyromonkey

**As always this story goes out to SJ, and the continued everyday bravery it takes to keep on keeping on. But Ladyhawk1709, you might find there's a little something in here for you too.**

**Clearly, I still don't own Skins, but from the look of the new trailer they're sneaking a bit of circus in there soon... :-) **.

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9. Pyromonkey

Katie

Another freezing drop of rain ran down the back of my neck and I had to remind myself for the hundred and fifty-seventh time that day why I was here. For her. Of course I had told my Dad I had to go to get a closer look at their on-site operations, but I was really here to be with her. Because she needed me. Back when we were teenagers, I used to laugh at the ridiculous lengths Emily would go to, to get into a girl's pants. Of course I was no better, hanging round in scummy parties, laughing at crap jokes and watching people act like arseholes just to try and get a shag from some fit lad. When I grew up I swore I'd never do that again, that if they wanted it they could come to me. I was fit and I was smart and I was successful, and I wasn't putting myself through shit for anyone. It worked too. Harry wooed me with beautiful cakes. Hell, Anna chased me across half of Europe before I finally gave in to her charms. And yet here I was, in the last place on earth I'd choose to be, all because of Effy Stonem. It wasn't even as if I was going to get to fuck her. I wasn't trying to fuck her (hundred and fifty seventh time I had to remind myself of _that_ today as well). I was only here to help her. Help the girl whose genius was threatening my Dad's business show off her talents. It's not like Fitchtastic Fireworks would ever do this kind of festival gig, but it was getting Le Coeur Explosif noticed, and the more that they got noticed, the more Effy's talents would shine. Man, this was some fucked up shit.

'Here' was one of the main reasons I wilfully resisted Dad's many efforts to get me to follow him into the family business. As the eldest I was the one he targeted the most, but I told him in no uncertain terms that I had no intention of spending my days scrabbling around in the pissing rain fiddling about with wires. I wanted glamour, I wanted excitement and I wanted comfort. So why the fuck was I hiding underneath a fucking tarpaulin attempting to protect things that were never meant to come into contact with water? You have to do everything you can to try to keep the pyro dry, and it just makes the back breaking work even more difficult. It's an uphill struggle. Your tools get wet, your tape gets wet, you can't put anything down for a second without it getting covered in mud. Your fingertips end up looking like prunes, as if you'd been soaking in a bath for days. It's fucking horrible work, and what made it worse was I had to keep slowing myself down in order not to appear too good at this shit. My instinct was to work as fast as possible to get it over and done with so I could return to the relative comfort of my tent, but I had to make it seem as if I was still fucking learning. I had had to bite my tongue yesterday when we were setting stuff up to stop myself from suggesting we drop in, in the back of the truck and then move the racks of tubes into place, cause how the fuck would Katie Ford know about that kind of shit?

Effy kept coming to check up on me. It was a double-edged sword because I had to keep my guard up not to appear too skilled, but then again I did get to see that gorgeous smile whenever she judged that I'd done something right. It almost made the conditions bearable. I heard a rustle at the edge of my tarpaulin, and looked up to see Effy poking her head under.

"Hey," she said. "Just came to see how you were getting on."

"Effy, it's ok that you come to look over my work," I smiled. "I know you have to make sure I'm not making any cock ups."

"I'm not doubting your ability," she said, creeping under the tarp. "It's just…"

"I know," I replied. "I'm new, and untested, and it's your neck on the line if I fuck it up."

"You haven't fucked anything up so far," she smiled.

"Must be naturally talented," I smirked at her.

"And naturally intelligent," she said, casting her eye over the tall wooden stake I'd pushed into the ground to prop up the tarp, making a little tent for myself and helping the water to run away from where I was working.

"Yeah well, I'm not just a pretty face you know," I replied.

She looked away, but her mouth curled up into a coy little smile. She was really trying hard with the no flirting rule today.

"So how are you getting on?" she asked me.

"See for yourself," I said, gesturing to the racks of tubes in front of me. "That's what you're here for."

She cast her eyes over my handiwork and nodded with approval.

"You're very neat," she said. "I like that. Tidy rigging is good rigging."

"I had a good teacher," I shrugged.

Truth was, Emily and I knew how to rig pyro almost before we knew how to read. Back in the day before health and safety prevented anyone under eighteen from coming anywhere near stuff like this, Dad always used to take us to work with him, first at the workshop and then out onto site. He never let us fire anything of course, that was always his job. Not that that had ever been enough for Emily. When she was sixteen she nicked a bunch of material and set it off at Pandora's birthday bash. She got in so much fucking trouble for that. When she announced she was gay two days later, everyone thought she was just trying to distract us from her misdemeanours, but we all know how that turned out. She got banned from the workshop, and the constant stream of girlfriends that started showing up on our doorstep meant that we had to accept the inevitable. She didn't seem to mind her exile from the business, she had a new toy to play with and she was making the most of it, but her little rebellion gave me the bottle to start planning my own escape.

"This is good work, Katie," said Effy proudly, and suddenly it felt as if the clouds had parted and the field had filled with glorious sunshine. "I should have known I could rely on you."

It was ridiculous. Suddenly I didn't care about the hideous conditions at all, just because she was proud of me for doing something I could have done with my eyes shut.

"I'm going for a fag break, do you wanna come?" she asked me.

"I don't smoke," I replied, pathetically wishing that I did just so I could follow her.

"I know," she smiled. "But at least come for a cup of tea. I think you've earned it."

We stood just inside the doorway of the catering tent staring out at the continuing downpour.

"Looks like it's here for the duration," sighed Effy. "Quel dommage."

"Fucking stupid rain," I spat angrily at the sky.

But it was a lie. I could never have thought it possible, but I Katie Fitch was at a fucking hippy festival, and I was actively praying for rain. Despite all the discomfort it was causing me, I didn't want it to stop. Cause if it kept on raining, there was no chance that Effy and Freddie's gear would dry out, and they would be forced to throw themselves upon my hospitality again. We would have no choice but to sleep next to each other again, and I wouldn't swap that chance for all the sun in California. My mind drifted back to the way she had held me last night and it was all I could do to stop myself from gasping. Wrapped in her embrace that tent had become a beautiful sanctuary, where nothing and no one could hurt me. Yes of course it was about comfort, reaching out for the warmth of someone after being soaked through with rain and mud, but why hadn't that person been her boyfriend? It was what had gone before that had defined the encounter. The way we had looked into each other's eyes had been so astonishingly intimate, and had held such understanding I was unsure I had ever known it's like. In all my life only Emily had come that close to reaching me. And that's what made it special and frightening. Effy and I had made the decision not to let sex define our relationship, but in its absence we had conjured up something even deeper. And I wanted more.

"What are you thinking about?" Effy's voice cut into my contemplation.

"Last night," I said before I could censor myself. It seemed that I had told her so many lies, I simply couldn't bear to tell another despite the trouble it might land me in.

"Oh," whispered Effy, and continued to stare out into the rain.

I was scared that I fucked things up by bringing it out into the open, but even though she wouldn't look at me, I suddenly felt her fingers moving around my own as she tentatively caught my hand in hers.

"And what were you thinking about it?" she asked me.

"That it was beautiful," I replied.

"It was," said Effy, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

"Did you understand?" I asked her.

I hadn't kissed her to seduce her. I had kissed her to show her that I cared, that she could trust me. That I wanted what was best for her, and I wanted her to be happy. And that I wasn't going to let anything destroy us.

"Yes," she said softly.

"So we don't need to have some big serious talk, and shit?" I said.

"What good would that do?" she replied.

There were no more words after that, until we spotted Freddie bounding over towards us, and Effy dropped my hand.

"There you are, you big skivers," he grinned at us. "Pyro's not going to rig itself, you know."

"Actually Katie's already finished the three and four inch shells," said Effy.

"Wow," said Freddie. "Impressive."

It seems that even when I'm trying to be shit at pyro, I can't quite manage it. It's in my fucking blood.

"The girl got skills," said Effy, bumping shoulders with me.

"And is everything…?" said Freddie, tailing off before he actually implied that my work might not be up to scratch.

"Everything's perfect," replied Effy, looking at me for the first time, her eyes revealing that she wasn't just talking about the pyro. She was ok with everything that had happened between us too.

"We'll make a proper little pyromonkey out of you yet," smiled Freddie.

"Don't monkeys live in hot places?" I countered. "With sunshine?"

"I think they live in the rainforest too," smirked Effy.

"Alright smartarse," I shot back at her. "I'll go and drown myself for the cause."

"That's the spirit, Katie," said Freddie, jumping back out into the downpour and doing a stupid dance. I caught Effy watching him with genuine affection, and I knew somehow we'd find a way to make it alright. Somehow I would find a way to conquer these emotions for the cause.

Such noble intentions all but deserted me when I saw Effy in her firing suit and helmet later that night. I don't know what it was about her in that get up but it made me stupidly turned on. Maybe it was the power thing? Or the way she got before she fired, so fucking cool and in control. Of course I was dressed up in the same way, but my borrowed suit was way to big for me, and I had to have the sleeves and the legs rolled up to a ridiculous extent just to make it practical to move in it. I must have looked a right fucking tit. Oh well, at least there would be no chance of Effy getting tempted by lust the way I was. I tried really heard not to stare at her, honestly I did, but she was just so fucking charismatic I was fighting a losing battle. I was blatantly eye-fucking her as she was doing her pre-show systems check, when she raised her eyes and caught me red-handed. She simply raised her eyebrows, and smirked at me and I got a glimpse of the Effy that once was, before she became Freddie's girl. She was hot, and she fucking knew it, and she knew I knew it too. Her gaze was relentless, and I threw my hands up in defeat. I looked round to check that neither of the boys were within earshot.

"Ok," I conceded. "I kind of have a thing for you in your firing gear. You look hot."

"So do you," she replied without hesitation.

A ripple of pleasure ran through me at her words, but I knew she must have been teasing me.

"I look like the fucking Michelin man," I countered.

"Not from where I'm standing," she purred.

"What happened to the no flirting rule?" I complained.

"The no flirting rule's a bitch," she smirked. "She needs a good smackdown every now and again."

"I don't believe you can possibly fancy me dressed like this," I said.

"I'm a pyrochick," she shrugged.

Damn you French bitch with your stupidly sexy Gallic shrug.

"You're about to run about in the middle of my site with shit going off all around you, you've got to know that's a huge turn on, right?" she teased.

"Well, I'm sure Cook will find it super hot then," I countered, not wanting to let her get the better of me.

"Putain!" spat Effy, suddenly, and my eyes opened wide in shock.

"Did you just call me a whore?" I said incredulously.

"What? Oh God. No," said Effy. "It doesn't mean… I mean it does, but it's just like saying 'fuck' or something. I left my lighter back at your tent when I got changed and I really wanted a fag."

"Oh well that makes more sense," I muttered.

"How come you know words like putain anyway?" she asked me.

"I might have been trying to um… brush up on my French a little recently," I admitted.

I'd been hoping to get a little better and then surprise her, but the way she was beaming at me made my slip up worthwhile.

"Sweet," she said. "But what kind of French lessons have you been going to exactly?"

"Oh well, I tried to look up some proper ones on the internet, but it was all 'Monsieur Marssaud has a dog' and 'can you tell me the way to the chemist?' and boring shit like that, but then I found these French rappers on YouTube and they have subtitles with them, and that was much more interesting."

"So you're learning to speak like a gangster?" laughed Effy.

"No," I protested. "The ones I was watching were all political and stuff. Really quite radical."

"And how the hell did you find that kind of stuff?" she asked.

"I _might_ have asked Thomas to give me a few pointers," I said, giving my best attempt at a proper French shrug, causing Effy to break out into her beautiful laughter once more. I loved that sound so much, I just had to make her do it again.

"So, I might not be able to find my way to the chemist," I quipped. "But if you ever feel the need to fuck the system or start a revolution then I'm your girl."

Effy laughed again, and I wanted to spread my arms out wide and twirl around in the sound of it. It was a music more beautiful than any euphoric track I'd let wash over me on ecstasy. I felt like fucking flying in the arms of that sound.

"You are really fucking beautiful, do you know that?" said Effy suddenly. She wasn't breaking the rules. Her words were just as gentle as my kiss, and they held a sincerity that had nothing to do with seduction.

"I do when you tell me," I replied.

Effy's face became serious, and laced with a sudden concern.

"Are you going to be alright?" she said, pushing a stray strand of hair away from my face, and letting her hand rest on my shoulder. "It's going to get pretty crazy out there."

"I'll be fine," I assured her with complete confidence. Confidence that came from knowing I wouldn't freak out under fire. As far as Effy was concerned, I was heading into the unknown. Ok, so I'd never operated a mechanical dragon before, but sure as hell was no stranger to being close to pyro. I knew exactly what to expect, and how to keep myself safe, but Effy was worried about me, and that made me feel like I was already on fire.

"What's a few fireworks when you've had a roomful of hysterical models and divaesque designers to deal with?" I said.

Effy smiled, and shook her head at me. In the distance we could hear Cook, calling out for me to come and join him.

"Go on then," said Effy. "Get the fuck out there."

"See you on the other side," I said, putting my helmet on and blowing her a kiss.

"Are you cool, Katiekins?" Cook asked me when I went to join him.

"I'll be cool when this is over with and I can get in the dry," I told him.

"Aw come on, babe," he said, looking a little wounded. "You're about to drive a dragon, how many people get to do that?"

The show was a very simple theatrical tale of a knight trying to steal the dragons' eggs, using Cook's sculptures and all enhanced with pyro. Cook and I were operating the dragons, which were 3D metal frames, enhanced with rope light, flame projectors and small calibre pyro. We propelled them using fixed gear bicycle chains, and we had all sorts of levers to operate their heads and their wings. Freddie was the knight, dressed up in a bright silver flame proof suit and stood up on durastilts.

"Is Freddie gonna be alright with all this rain?" I asked Cook.

"Yeah, he's used to it," Cook replied. "As long as he stays on the trackway and doesn't get stuck in the mud."

We got a five-minute standby over the radio from Effy, and Cook wished me luck with a bone-crunching hug before we wandered off to our starting positions. I sat in the seat of my dragon as the rain continued to tumble down around my ears, thinking about Effy, allowing my brain to drift dangerously towards territory I should be keeping it far away from, before her voice in my earpiece shook me back into reality.

"This is a go in five, four, three, two, one…GO," she said, and the first strains of the music hit my ears.

The show started gently, with minimal and yet artfully arranged small calibre pyro, as Cook and I drove our dragons towards each other. Our lights were green, and our flame jets as yet unused as we did a dance of greeting. The music changed and our dance became more animated. We started glowing orange, and Effy took the pyro up a notch. Golden jets went off all along the tips of our wings, and the wind took some of the sparks back towards me, but I had my gloves on and my visor down, so I wasn't too worried at all. I was having way too much fun making the giant creature respond to my touch. It amused me no end that we were simulating dragon sex, and even though I knew it was because the female dragon had more complicated controls, I got to be the boy and I was basically fucking Cook with my flames. The 'dance' reached its climax and a massive gerb erupted from the front of my dragon. It was cheeky as fuck, and I'm sure they only got away with it cause of their Frenchness. I giggled as I imagined the look on my Dad's face if he'd seen silver gerb being used as dragon cum, and even over the soundtrack I could hear Cook laughing his head off as he got a pasting from the sparks.

The music subsided, and Effy lit up a shining egg in the centre of the site, and we put our dragons to sleep. It was over to Effy for a while, gorgeously animating the site with beautiful colours and shapes whilst we were at peace, until the arrival of Evil Freds and his plan to steal our egg. He almost succeeded until Effy set of a rapid chase of pink single shots that started at the egg and then wove their way across the whole site, drawing a gasp from the crowd and waking the dragons up. The whole place went mental then, pyro and sculptures going haywire, as we battled the Knight to the pounding of the heavy bass led soundtrack, the lights on the frames of our bodies glowing fiery red as Freddie's sword shot sparks. Cook and I started getting a bit carried away, trying to outdo each other with the flame projectors in the dragon heads, until we got a stern warning from Effy in our headsets about saving gas for the other two shows. I had to suppress a little shiver at the sound of her being all commanding like that, and I almost felt like misbehaving just to get her to tell me off again. I was buzzed up from the adrenalin, and I hardly even noticed the rain that had been bugging me all day. The battle came to a head, and all the shells I'd dropped in earlier started going off behind me as we chased Freddie away. I barely had time to take it all in, preoccupied as I was with operating my dragon, but the sound of the crowd told me that Effy was working her magic again, and in the brief glimpses I allowed myself I saw nothing but stunning pictures in the sky.

The music dropped down again and our dragons serenaded each other in victory, giving Freddie the time to slip out of his silver suit and lose the stilts before sneaking back to operate the final moment of the show. The pyro focussed down again to the immediate vicinity of the egg, indicating activity inside it, until the moment Freddie operated the mechanism that made it spilt in two and fall apart, revealing a baby dragon drawn out in purple and white rope light. Me and Cook raised up our wings to their fullest extensions and there was a crackle of sparks as Effy ignited the exact same image drawn out in paraffin soaked paper rope behind the first baby. As the fire took hold and the image became clear, she faded out the lights on the first one till there was nothing left but a picture in flame. The dragons howled one last victory howl on the soundtrack, and I could hear Cook howling along with them, as Effy triggered one final lift that filled the ground and sky with gold. The rest was darkness.

I sat back in the seat of my dragon and let the roar of the crowd and the sound of Cook's celebratory whooping wash over me. It felt fucking good. The show has seemed to go by in a flash but I was high as a kite from it. I hadn't felt this good since I'd been pulling off spectacular runway shows, but being right in the thick of things like that had been a buzz I hadn't experienced before. I knew there was only one place I wanted to be right then. I climbed out of my dragon, pulled off my helmet and tossed it onto the seat behind me, before walking back towards the firing station and Effy. She was surrounded by a crowd of people congratulating her, but when she spotted me, her eyes lit up and she smiled and walked away from them. As she approached, she pulled off her helmet and her long brown locks came cascading down around her shoulders. The moment couldn't have been more beautiful if it has been given the full Hollywood treatment with slow motion filming and a soundtrack that screams 'this girl is hot'.

"How was it for you?" she smirked at me.

"Well, I definitely came," I shot back.

"I saw," she replied raising a cocky eyebrow. "But seriously, were you ok out there? I mean everything looked amazing."

"I loved it, Effy," I said, trying to resist the urge to reach out and grab her hands. "I really loved it."

"Funny how those twenty minutes of firepower make all those hours of slog in the rain and mud just disappear," she said.

"Remind me of that when I'm getting dripped on under that tarp tomorrow," I smiled, but she was right, that show had made everything worthwhile.

We fell silent then, and could have easily gotten locked into one of our staring matches, until Freddie came bounding over towards us.

"Brilliant show, babe," he said, picking Effy up and twirling her round, drawing her into a passionate kiss as he set her back down on the ground. I watched for a few seconds, expecting them to break it, but he just kept on kissing her, and I was grateful when I heard Cook's voice calling to me in the background. He took me round the site, explaining how we were checking for material that hadn't gone off, and recovering the tubes with tarps. Though the show had seemed to go brilliantly, there was actually quite a lot of live left over.

"Shit," I said, when I discovered another run of three-inch shells I'd rigged that had stayed in their tubes.

"It's ok, Katie," said Cook, putting his arm round me. "These things happen, especially when the weather is so shitty. You've done a really good job."

But I took no comfort in his words. I was stunned to realise how much my professional ego had been wounded, even though I had barely touched any pyro in the last five years.

"Yeah, but I should do better," I frowned.

"Someone's got the pyrobug," laughed Cook. "We like that kind of attitude round here. Thommo better start watching out for his spot. Might have to persuade Effy to hire you."

"I don't think so," I said.

Whatever new life I would eventually carve out for myself when I had recovered from this glitch, I had no intentions of it being as a pyromonkey. Cook just smirked at me.

"We'll see," he said.

We all went out that night to celebrate, ending up in the backstage bar of the performers area. It turned out quite a people had seen the show, and we got loads of compliments once people found out who we were. It would have been an awesome night, but for the fact that Freddie and Effy were increasingly all over each other as the night wore on. It was uncomfortable viewing. I wanted to flee from the tent and run as far away as I could from them, but I forced myself to stay and watch. It was good therapy. A cold sharp reminder that she wasn't mine. Freddie was her boyfriend and she loved him and wanted him and fucked him. If I wanted to be friends with her, I was going to have to accept this reality sooner or later. So even though it felt like I was getting stabbed in the eyeballs every time I saw him touch her, I stayed and watched the spectacle.

"Jesus Freddie," I grumbled. "Why don't you see if you can get your tongue any further down her throat?"

"Those two really need to get a room, eh?" said Cook, making me jump.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me Cook," I chided. "It could be dangerous for your health."

"Noted," he said, laughing as he watched Freddie's hand travel up Effy's skirt. "Go Fredster, ya dirty bastard. They always get super horny after they've done a show. You're gonna have some bouncing around going on in your tent tonight."

"Ugh, no way," I said, my eyes widening in disgust at the thought. "If I'm not getting any, then they're not getting any either."

"Well, we could always do something about that," said Cook, slipping his arms around my belly and kissing me on the back of the neck.

I froze. It didn't come as a surprise. He'd been trying it on with me since day one. I just didn't know what to do with it. It felt good, there was no doubt about that, but was fucking Cook really going to be the answer to my problems? I relaxed a little, deciding to test the waters, letting him carry on kissing my neck as he slid his hands down to the tops of my thighs. After a few more moments I turned around to face him, and discovered a twinkling in his eyes that I knew had charmed a small army of girls.

"How about it, Katie?" he said, much more gently than in any of his previous efforts. "I fancy you, you fancy me. Let's get together and feel alright."

But despite their obvious charms, any small stirrings of feeling I'd had died when I looked into his eyes. They were the wrong eyes. They weren't her eyes. It looked like I was going to have to sit this obsession out a little longer.

"I can't," I said softly. "I'm kind of into someone else."

"And is he into you?" asked Cook. "Because if he isn't, he's a fool."

"No… Yes… It's complicated," I sighed.

"Isn't it always?" he smiled. "Except for me. I'm simple. I see ya. I like ya. I fuck ya. Simple."

"It's an approach that has its merits," I acknowledged. "But it's not going to happen tonight."

"Aha," he said enthusiastically, releasing me from his grasp. "Then it still might happen another night."

Whatever you might think of Cook, you had to admire his optimism.

"Who knows, Cookie Monster," I told him. "Maybe one of these days."

"I await with bated breath and lurid fantasies," he beamed.

We were interrupted by an uncharacteristically exuberant Effy.

"Alors, mes petits pétards," she said. "Where are we going next?"

"Actually honey, I was thinking about heading back," said Freddie, hot on her heels.

"Don't be such a loser, Freds," she said. "I've just had a line."

"You said you weren't going to tonight," he said, shaking his head at her.

"Changed my mind," she retorted. "Go home then. I bet Cookie's up for a party."

"Not tonight, Eff," said Cook. "Got another big day tomorrow, yeah?"

I struggled to hide my surprise. From the tales that I'd heard from him and the others, I'd thought that Cookie was always up for a party.

"Boys," said Effy scornfully. "Fucking lightweights."

She marched up to me and flung her arms around my neck.

"Katie honey," she said. "You'll come dancing with me, won't you?"

Lurid fantasies of Effy getting up close and personal on the dancefloor began to invade my mind, and I was just drunk enough to throw caution to the winds and go off with her, when I looked over her shoulder to see the boys. Freddie was shaking his head and mouthing 'No' at me, and Cook was making slashing motions across his throat. Both of them seemed pretty insistent, and I was loath to mess with a dynamic I didn't truly understand yet. I pushed down my sinful libido and turned back to Effy.

"I'm pretty tired to be honest, babes," I told her. "I'm not used to this kind of work, remember. I think I better save myself for tomorrow."

Effy backed away and looked round at all of us in disappointment.

"Fucking gang up on me, why don't you?" she said. "Jesus, when did you all become responsible fucking adults?"

"When you stopped us being the useless arseholes we were as kids," said Cook.

"Ok, I get it," she sighed dramatically. "Let's all go home and be _good_."

Freddie took hold of her hand and led the way back to camp, whilst me and Cook followed on behind.

"Feel like filling me in on what was going on back there?" I asked him.

"Remember I told you how Effy used to cane it?" he said. "Well sometimes once she gets going, she has a bit of a problem with stopping. Freddie's pretty good at spotting the signs of when he thinks she's going to go off on one."

"What? So he gets to police her behaviour?" I said sceptically.

"You didn't see the way she was," replied Cook gravely. "We're just trying to look out for her, cause we failed so spectacularly last time. We fucking love that girl, man."

"She's something pretty special, huh?" I said.

"There's only one Effy," smiled Cook.

Though my heart warmed at the thought of her being protected by her little band of brothers, it also baulked at the thought that there was only one Effy. And she belonged to someone else.

It turned out I hadn't been lying when I said I was tired. After all the work, the excitement of the show and the several bottles of strawberry cider that had followed, I pretty much crashed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. It was several hours later when I crept back to consciousness, feeling the need to throw back the covers from the heat generated by the three bodies in the bed. The first thing that registered was the sound of the rain still beating down onto the canvas above my head, and I groaned inwardly at the thought of another day spent under the tarp. The next thing I felt was the sensation of being watched and I knew without even opening my eyes that she was staring at me again. I swear it was almost a physical sensation, beams of piercing blue boring their way into my head. I let my eyelids flutter open and adjust to the dim morning light, and sure enough there she was facing me, eyes wide open and breathing me in. She never apologises for staring at you. She never lets her eyes fall nervously and turns her gaze away. She breaks every rule in the fucking book, and doesn't care for the insignificance of things like etiquette. Yet another one of the thousand and one things I love about her. I smiled at her, and she smiled back through the gloom. I really wanted her to wrap me in her arms again, but Freddie was spooning her and had his long brown arm wrapped tightly round her belly. It was impossible to be jealous when her eyes were only for me. If these quiet moments were all we were to have, than I would learn to treasure them as something precious. Somehow, instinctively, our hands found each other across the gap that separated us, and our fingers slipped together like the final piece of a puzzle. My whole world became about the warmth and softness of her hand, and I could feel my blood pulsing through me as I pressed against her flesh. Every now again I would feel an infinitesimal movement of her thumb that spoke more eloquently than whole volumes of fine words. I looked for confirmation in her unashamed gaze. In these unguarded moments she let me learn to read the parts of her she kept hidden from everyone else. This time she was telling me that I was precious too.

We didn't sleep again that night.

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mes petits pétards – my little firecrackers


	10. C'est juste un truc qu'on fait

**One again, a thousand thanks to Blueeyedfrog for her collaboration and general awesomeness. **

**Reposted to iron out some inconsistencies concerning Anna**

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10. C'est juste un truc qu'on fait.

Effy

I don't really get why everyone makes such a big deal about sex. I mean it's just a bodily function, right? Just like eating, breathing or having a shit. C'est juste un truc qu'on fait. But then again I don't really get people full stop. It's why I spend hours watching them, trying to work them out. Ever since I've been able to think, I know that I think differently to them. As a kid I used to wonder where I came from, and why I wasn't like the other little girls. I used to listen to them prattling on and wonder what value they found in all that noise. In my arrogant teens I came to accept that I was human, but I considered myself more evolved. I wasn't trapped by the petty concerns of the rest of my peers, and the things that they all strived for came easily for me. Way too easily. I knew I was blessed with looks that others found attractive, and I could use them to manipulate everyone around me, man and woman alike. The masses bought into my disguise, and I became worshipped and envied in equal measure. Even the ones that reviled me swung perilously in that balancing act between love and hate. And I played them, I played them all.

Except for him. Except for Freddie. I could see even from the very beginning that he was pure. That his love for me was so powerful a thing that to play with it would have destroyed him. And though I might not have had any desire to conform to the generally accepted idea of love, with him I could not be that intentionally cruel. So I resisted his gentle attempts to woo me and went with the easier option – a hell of a lot of fucking. . La promiscuité me convenait, mais cela ne voulait pas dire que j'étais incapable d'aimer. I loved him enough to keep him away from me. To my way of thinking it was an enormous gesture of respect, to love him as a friend instead of dragging him into sex that would mean nothing to me, but everything to him. Of course he didn't see it that way, and all through our teenage years I could feel the force of his pining for me like a pressure on the back of my neck. He thought the fact that I wouldn't sleep with him meant I didn't care for him, when in fact it meant that I cared for him more than any man I'd ever met.

Sex. It's where everyone draws the line. We were back chilling out at the barn the weekend after the festival and I hadn't seen Katie all week. I was making dinner in the kitchen, and Katie was leaning over the table reading the newspaper. And I was staring at her ass. And thinking about fucking her. I thought about fucking Katie a lot. À ce moment là je songeais à passer ma main sous sa jupe et à la prendre, comme ça, par derrière à la table même. But if I fucked Katie I'd be a whore and a heartbreaker. If I didn't, and I kept these filthy thoughts to myself, I would be good. And the world wants you to adhere to its vision of good. No matter that its vision is ridiculous to me. I could go out into the night and fuck some random, and it would have no impact on me at all. Its resonance would be gone the minute the act was done and would leave no part of itself lingering in my body or my soul. But those nights of silent intimacy in Katie's tent had dug themselves into me so deeply they had fused with the nucleus of every cell. No fluids were exchanged, no morally unacceptable body parts were touched, but I had given myself away more recklessly than in any one of my countless fucks. So you tell me which one has higher value in the currency of betrayal.

On the last night of the festival the others finally gave up on their childishly transparent attempts to marshal my behaviour and everyone went for the burn. Freddie ran into some mates and ended up stoned round a sodding campfire as usual. Cook disappeared into the night with a semi-naked blonde. Which left me and Katie, a shit load of Class A's and a one way ticket to sweet oblivion. They say you always revert to type, and true to form, I got so blissfully wankered I don't remember much of the night. What I do remember comes in the form of sensation rather than coherent thought. There was dancing, beautiful colours, the exquisite scent of her, the sound of laughter, the feel of bass beats rumbling through my stomach. And freedom. La liberté de toute obligation; et ça c'était la plus belle drogue au monde.

I woke up sweating, and my eyes peeled open to an intensity of brightness and colour I had almost forgotten existed. I let myself laugh out loud at the irony of the sun finally coming out on the day we were going to pack up and go home.

"That's a nice sound to wake up to," said Katie, and extended sibilant of her lisp sent tremors through my limbs.

We were alone in her tent. Both of us still dressed in last night's clothes, the covers kicked off in our sleep. She was lying on her back with her arm round my shoulders and I was snuggled right into her side. It would have been so easy just to slide myself on top of her and push one of my legs between her thighs. The desire to do just that flooded over me. I was standing on tiptoe on the edge of a cliff and the slightest of breezes would have sent me over, but at the very last moment I looked into her eloquent eyes, and she caught me and saved me. Once again, the intensity left me breathless. Elle savait à quel point on était près de capituler, et elle riait de nous. I propped myself up on one elbow, left my other hand draped lightly across her beautiful stomach, and gazed down at her. The world was upside down, because _this_ was grand passion. This depth of understanding and the emotional intelligence to know that we were worth far more than a cheap shag that could destroy fucking everything. She was too precious, and I fucking adored her. For the second time in my life the absence of fucking became my greatest act of love.

"Sweet dreams?" I asked her.

"Yeah, well sweet," she smiled lazily.

"And what were you dreaming of?" I whispered seductively, knowing she would let me play without prejudice.

"I was dreaming of a fucking shower," she said aggressively. "I must smell worse than a heavy metal roadie right now."

Only Katie could make complaining into such a delightfully comedic artform, and she made me collapse into laughter once more.

"You still smell pretty sweet to me," I told her.

She shoved me on the shoulder and flipped me onto my back, bringing her upper torso to rest above mine.

"Then you are clearly still high," she asserted.

I watched her as her brain slipped through exactly the same thought processes as mine had moments earlier. How easy it would be just to slide her thigh between my own and then lean down and take me in a kiss. Part of me longed for her to do it, to take me helplessly past the point of self-control. To throw ourselves thoughtlessly into the chaos we could create. I knew there was an Effy that would love to revel in that darkness, and I knew she was still part of me, but Katie was much stronger than that. Her eyes travelled in a last longing sweep across my body.

"We're too good for this," she said.

"I know," I replied.

"So let's get out of this fucking tent before we suffocate or shag," she laughed.

Though clearly I am not too good for shameless acts of perving, or the obscene fantasies they engender. I pulled out a cigarette to try and calm my furious libido. At the rasp of metal and flint in the lighter, Katie turned round and looked at me over her shoulder. Her knowing smirk told me she knew exactly what I'd been doing, but thank the Lord she did not have the capacity to work out what I had been thinking. In that moment I secretly wished for the skeevy logic of religion. One of those ones where thinking about the deed is supposed to be as bad as doing the deed itself. If that were true I was already well on my way to hell and there would be no need for further abstinence. Perhaps that was why so many of those religious types failed to live up to the pressures of their morality. Just like me, they had no control over their thoughts, and with the sin already committed they might as well continue and be damned. But I had only my own ideas to control me, and I knew that though my thoughts might be a secret betrayal of my lover, the deed would hurt him more than I could bear.

"Do you think you could manage to not be quite so fucking sexy?" I said.

"I'm only reading the paper," she protested, but she knew the effect she was having on me, cause she removed the temptation of her beautiful bum, and went to sit down on the opposite side of the table. I distracted myself briefly with the stirring of pots, before turning back, thinking my compulsive window shopping might be a little safer now. But there was a problem. KFCP – The Katie Ford Cleavage Problem. There was always the Katie Ford Cleavage Problem. If there really was a war of the sexes, Katie's tits could be considered Weapons of Mass Destruction, and her chosen style of dress seldom kept those weapons hidden. The festival weather had deprived me of the sight of them for days, but back in the warmth of my kitchen they were revealed in all their glory as she leaned over the table reading. And trust me when I say absence _does_ make the heart grow fonder.

"Putain de connerie de merde, fait chier," I muttered as a new wave of filthy ideas came flooding through my consciousness. I knew I was bad, but Katie's body drove me to new depths of imaginary depravity.

"Have you got a fire extinguisher in here?" she said, without looking up from her paper.

"Yeah, there's one in the corner by the veg rack," I replied. "Why?"

"Because if your eyes keep burning into them like that, I think my boobs are going to burst into flame," she said coolly.

"I wasn't," I protested feebly.

Katie raised her eyes from the paper.

"Really?" she said sceptically.

It was her eyes that broke me. Like they always do.

"Fuck," I said, thinking about sticking my head under the cold tap.

"You're having lust issues," said Katie. "I should go."

"No," I said almost immediately. "I'll deal. At least stay for dinner."

"Ok," she relented. "But maybe I should go up to the living room for a bit."

"What, so you can give the boys lust issues instead?" I said.

"Thomas is too much of a gentleman, Freddie only has eyes for you, and Cook's gone out to the off-licence," she laughed. "But thanks for the ego boost."

Dinner was easier with everyone sat round the table and the ridiculous banter flowing back and forth between my boys. It was great to have Thomas's measured calm back in the mix, and I spent a lot of time catching up with him over the meal. I loved it when we all sat down together, and despised the English traditions of just grabbing food in front of the TV or eating working lunches at your desk. The boys enjoyed it too, and it was an important part of the glue that bound us all together. Afterwards we all retired upstairs and drank a few more beers and hung together whilst doing our own thing. Freddie was playing on his X-box, whilst Thomas was chatting to his cousins in the Congo on the Internet. Katie was flipping through a copy of Vogue, that Cook had brought her back from the shop, whilst he was rolling spliffs and talking nonsense as usual. Ma belle famille.

"So ya really like looking at all them clothes and shit?" Cook asked her.

"I've been spending way too much time around hippies," she replied. "I need some glamour in my life."

"What could be more glamorous than spending time with us?" he grinned.

Katie just smiled condescendingly until Cook decided it was time to annoy someone else. He turned his attentions to Freddie, and I was free to watch Katie as she perused her magazine. I could never get a handle on those types of magazines. It always seemed to be a case of hunt the article in amongst the pages and pages of ads, and they very quickly bored me. But Katie seemed in the grip of a deep fascination as she turned the pages. She always seemed so self-assured, but I know she missed the lifestyle that her former job had given her, and there was a part of her that still seemed a little lost. It wasn't my world, and I would never quite understand it, but I was still gripped by the passion and intelligence with which she studied the pages. Besides, I could get excited by catalogues of explosives, so who was I to judge? She was so beautiful, curled up on my sofa with her legs tucked up underneath her and that look of happy concentration on her face. But her beauty was a bomb that was threatening to explode in all our faces. I looked around at the relaxed and happy atmosphere in the room and marvelled at how fragile it was, and how I could destroy it in an instant. All because other people made such a big deal out of sex.

I turned back to look at Katie just as she was turning another page. Her breath hitched and a look of alarm spread across her face. She looked away and I could tell she was swearing under her breath. When she returned her attention to the magazine, a look of infinite sadness crossed her features. It was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to rush over there and sweep her up in my arms and kiss away that sadness. I wanted to make sure she never felt that sad again. I wanted to be able to hold her every night the way I'd held her in the tent. I wanted to make love to her slowly and purge her of her pain. And that's when I realised I'd been fooling myself all along. I couldn't separate the love and the lust with Katie. Coucher avec elle ne serait jamais un acte purement physique et dénué de sens. Sex with Katie would be a very big deal indeed.

"Anybody want more beer?" I said, getting up from my armchair, to be greeted with a chorus of positive replies.

I ran downstairs but instead of getting the beer, I went straight to the freezer and grabbed a bottle of Absolut. I pulled off the cap and took a hefty swig straight from the bottle, not caring about the threat to my lips from the freezing glass. I slammed the bottle down and got myself a shot glass, pouring the temperature-thickened clear liquid and draining it straight away. The next thing in my mouth was a cigarette, and I pulled a few deep, searching drags, before refilling the shot glass, and downing it again. Fuck, I had to get a grip on this. I had to shut it down. Katie was too far in for me to abandon her completely. She was the best female friend I had ever had, but I couldn't allow things to stray into sexual territory any more. She was far too fucking dangerous. The no flirting rule was going to have to be more rigorously enforced. We had to move on from this, and fast.

By the time I had calmed myself enough to go back upstairs all traces of that terrible sadness had vanished from Katie's face, and she was laughing at some inane joke that Cook had made.

"What's up Effy?" he grinned when he saw me lurking in the doorway. "Did ya have to go and brew the fucking things?"

"Yeah whatever?" I said, handing out beers to everyone but him.

"Awww man, play nicely," he said, as I clinked bottles with Freds and chugged, leaving him still thirsty.

"Then do not question me, minion," I said, dangling the last bottle just out of his reach.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said making mock bowing motions. "Yes, O Great One, O She Who Must Be Obeyed."

The room collapsed into hysterics at his antics, and the terrifying fragility of the group I had witnessed before was once again cloaked by a curtain of laughter. I finally let Cook have his beer, and he did a stupid victory dance before downing half the bottle in one.

"Here's a question for the floor, and everybody gets to play," he said, his eyes burning with mischief. "Who's the hottest girl you've ever shagged?"

"That's easy," laughed Freddie. "It's Effy."

"Oh shut up, you big boring pansy loser," howled Cook, ruffling his hair. "I want some juicy dirt. Come on everyone. Well not you obviously, Katie."

"Actually," she said with all the calm of a trained assassin with her finger on the trigger. "I _have_ slept with a supermodel."

Every pair of eyes shot towards her as the room descended into stunned silence. Cook was the first one to break it.

"Ah ha ha, nice one, Katie," he said. "You almost had me going for a minute there."

"I'm serious," she said, fixing him with a superior stare.

"Yeah?" he said, still doubtful. "Which one?"

She picked up her copy of Vogue from where it lay on the coffee table in front of her, flicking through the pages until she found the right one.

"This one," she said, shoving the magazine into his face.

His eyes nearly popped right out of his head.

"Fuck me," he exclaimed, grabbing the publication from her hand. "You've seriously had sex with this girl?"

With his free hand he grabbed one of Katie's and stared at it reverently.

"_These_ hands, have been on _these_ tits?" he asked in wonder.

"They've been a lot more places than that," said Katie smugly.

"Let me see," I said, wondering who it was that had managed to send Cook into such stupefied wonder.

"Seriously Eff, this girl is superfit," he said, handing me the dishevelled magazine.

"Putain de merde!" I gasped as I looked down at the picture in front of me. "_This_ was your girlfriend? Anna Markova was your girlfriend?"

"Anna Markova?" said Freddie.

The others were to busy drooling over Katie's former lover to notice the sting that laced his voice, but I picked up on it straight away, because I knew why it was there. I had always laughed at other people's celebrity crushes. It wasn't like you were ever going to know them and they were probably arseholes anyway. But Anna Markova was my Kryptonite, and every time I saw one of her images, I couldn't help but stare. Yes, I knew it was fashion and she had had a small army of stylists, and that the pictures were doctored to within an inch of their life, but lust for a manufactured image was still lust all the same. They always photographed the tall Russian beauty as icily superior and aloof, and in this picture she was standing on the top of some cliff, her long, straight, rich dark auburn hair blowing artfully in the wind, and her dangerous deep hazel eyes fucking the camera. Fucking the observer. Fucking me. And I could hear the disapproval in Freddie's voice, because he knew of my desires. Any time the subject of fanciable celebrities cropped up, hers would be the only name I'd give, and he knew exactly what I'd be thinking as I was staring at the page. Though they were few and far between these days, I knew he hated any reminders of the girl I was before, et mon désir pour d'autres femmes était quelque-chose qu'il était impatient d'oublier.

"Come on, Effy, sharing is caring, ya dirty bitch," laughed Cook, taking the magazine from me and showing it to Thomas.

"She is a very beautiful woman," said Thomas politely, nodding his head in gentle approval, but Cook's attention was still firmly rooted on me.

"Wait a minute, is this that Russian bird that you like?" he laughed, turning to Katie. "Effy fancies the fuck out of her."

"Really?" said Katie, with an amused little smile.

The temperature was rising. I had to diffuse this situation. I pulled off my most dismissive shrug.

"She's hot," I said casually as if it didn't really matter, but my blackboard was screaming with the screeching of chalk. I must not think about Katie and Anna together. I must not think about Katie and Anna together. I must not think about Katie and Anna together.

"Well I know what's going in my wank bank tonight," announced Cook triumphantly.

"Maudit Cook," I spat all too eagerly, before attempting a rescue. "You disgusting prick."

I saw him open his mouth to imply that I was hardly any better, but he caught the pleading look in my eye, and was smart enough to hold his tongue.

"So you didn't just get to fuck her, like? She was actually your girlfriend?" he asked Katie instead.

"Yeah," said Katie softly.

"What's she like?" he asked, intrigued.

"Surprisingly sweet," she replied. "And a lot more down to earth than her image suggests. I was in love with her."

I saw Freddie watching Katie as she spoke. I knew him so well I could almost see the inner working processes of his brain. Suddenly there wasn't just an elephant in the room, it was a Sapphic vampire elephant with fangs. Freddie liked to live in the comforting denial of the cosy home life he had constructed for us, and I know until this moment he hadn't given a second thought to the woman he had welcomed so warmly into our midst. But this new information had slapped him out of his complacency. Katie likes sex with girls. And Katie was gorgeous. Outwardly nothing would change, and he would certainly not say anything to her face, but I watched him mentally moving her from the compartment marked 'safe' to the compartment marked 'threat'.

"So how long were you together," asked Thomas.

"Two years," sighed Katie fondly.

"So why did you break up?" asked Cook.

"She was a ho," replied Katie, echoes of that grave sadness flickering across her brow. "I caught her cheating on me."

"I'd have forgiven her," Cook laughed. "Just to get that back in my bed."

"She broke my heart, Cook," said Katie, a touch of moisture gathering in her eye. "It was horrible. I thought we were special. We had something that was so fucking beautiful, and she destroyed it as if she didn't care at all. It just hurt too much to take her back. Besides, I'm not like you, Cookie. I have principles."

And with that sweet, noble Katie diffused her own bomb. I saw Freddie visibly relax, and even my own thoughts were no longer tainted with sinful desire. Instead I saw only a friend who had been hurt, and I went to her and instinctively wrapped my arms around her.

"Group hug," Thomas suggested, and both he and Cook were quick to rise to the task, coming and pressing their bodies closely against Katie's in a protective embrace. It took him a few more moments, but finally Freddie got up to join us.

"It's ok, Katiekins," said Cook warmly. "You've got us now."

I had to swallow hard to try to remove the lump in my throat that began to rise as I felt her body shake and she began to sob quietly into my chest. Oh my dear sweet, wonderful, beautiful Katie, you were right. You have been right all along. We were too good for this. In spite of all the contradictions she invoked in me, I was a better person when she was around. My goodness was not an artificial construct when I was with Katie. It was something she inspired in me.

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The language of the beautiful bomb….

1. C'est juste un truc qu'on fait. - It's just something that we do

2. . La promiscuité me convenait, mais cela ne voulait pas dire que j'étais incapable d'aimer. - Promiscuity suited me, but it did not mean I was incapable of love.

3. À ce moment là je songeais à passer ma main sous sa jupe et à la prendre, comme ça, par derrière à la table même. - Right then I was thinking about putting my hand up her skirt and taking her from behind at that very table.

4. La liberté de toute obligation; et ça c'était la plus belle drogue au monde. - Freedom from obligation, the most beautiful drug of all.

5. Elle savait à quel point on était près de capituler, et elle riait de nous. - She knew how close we were to weakness, and she was laughing at us

6. Putain de connerie de merde, fait chier - So my instructions to Froggie were 'Insert some colourful French swearing here' and she has done me proud. I think even KFF would be proud of this one.

7. Ma belle famille. - My beautiful family.

8. Coucher avec elle ne serait jamais un acte purement physique et dénué de sens. - Sex with her could never be a meaningless physical act.

9. Putain de merde! – more swearing!

10. et mon désir pour d'autres femmes était quelque-chose qu'il était impatient d'oublier. - and my desire for other women was something he was all too eager to forget.

11. Maudit Cook - Damn you, Cook

12. C'était quelque-chose qu'elle inspirait en moi. - It was something she inspired in me.


	11. Bad Cake

**I do not own Skins. I know. Madness, right?**

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11. Bad Cake

Katie

I had been at my desk all day, but I hadn't done a lick of work. At least not the work I was supposed to be doing. I'd spent the morning drinking coffee, daydreaming and procrastinating, attempting to work up the necessary enthusiasm to do my job. In the afternoon I had given up pretending and actually started writing my imaginary thesis instead. Within minutes I was completely engrossed. I had sketched out an outline, written an introduction and whiled away a couple of hours on the net, pulling up images and watching videos for reference. It was like someone had flicked the nitro switch in my engine and suddenly my brain was turbo-charged. Without even realising it, I was happy. It wasn't until my Mum stopped by to invite me over for dinner that night that I clocked I was wasting all my energy on a fantasy. What the fuck was happening, that I was starting to prefer my fake life to my real one? There was probably some syndrome for that, like when spies and coppers get in so deep that their cover seems more real than their reality.

Anyway, if there was a syndrome, then I had definitely got it, cause as soon as Jenna left, my brain flipped right back into my alias. I had a show at the weekend, and I was actually looking forward to it. When I was back at Fitchtastic, I missed the simple camaraderie of Effy and her boys. Despite the obvious complications, working and hanging out with them was actually fun. Even the shit bits were made better by the banter and the sense of unity. They had an infectious happiness born out of the fact that they loved what they did. I tried to remember a time from my childhood, when my Dad had been doing it simply for the sheer joy of making shit explode. I decided there must have been one, even though the evidence was now deeply buried.

Exactly how deeply buried became evident later that night, when it became clear that the dinner invitation was not motivated by my loving parents wanting to spend time with their eldest daughter. They wanted to find out what I knew.

"So, have you found out any more about that French lot?" said Jenna as she was dishing out the vegetables.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"Subtle, Mum," I replied.

"Well we've no need for secrets," she answered jovially. "We're all family here."

"Yeah, well only one of them is actually French for starters," I said tersely. "And she's half English."

"Oh well, let's not worry about her then," said Dad. "Tell us about the guy in charge."

"For fuck's sake, Dad," I sighed. "Last time I looked it had been the twenty-first century for over a decade."

"No Katie's right, let's talk about her," said James. "Is she fit? Maybe I should come with you on one of your missions."

"As if she's gonna be interested in some nerdy little loser who still lives at home with his mother," I spat at him.

Jesus, sometimes, Fitch men, I swear…

"There's a recession on," whined James. "It's harder for young people to start out on their own these days."

"Now, now kids let's not fight," soothed Jenna. "I'm sure Katie's got something interesting to tell us."

"Yeah luv, what's their business plan, their plan of attack?" asked Rob.

"I'm not sure they have one," I shrugged. "They seem to be doing it just because they love it. They don't seem too concerned about making huge amounts of money from it."

"Then maybe we haven't got too much to be worried about," said Rob. "If they're just a bunch of kids that don't know what they're doing. Maybe that May Fest thing was just a fluke."

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said.

Oh Katie, why the fuck don't you think before you speak?

"What do you mean?" said Rob.

"Nothing," I said, shrugging. "Just maybe they're not as dumb as you think."

I could see he was prepared to let it go, his own masculine pride allowing him to dismiss the threat more easily. But my mother was a different creature altogether.

"Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Katie Fitch," she said, fixing me with an intimidating glare. "Tell me what you meant by that remark."

Even ninjas could not escape my mother's scrutiny. There was no way I was getting out of this. Oh what the fuck, it's not like there was anything they could do about it now anyway.

"You know that rally launch we tendered for?" I said.

"Yeah, it sucks that we didn't get that," moaned James. "That would have been cool."

"Yeah, well guess who did?" I said a little too smugly.

Dad slammed his fork down on the table.

"See this is the kind of thing I'm talking about," he said angrily. "That gig should have been ours. We can't let these people carry on stealing all our work. We're going to have to do something about it. Find a way to knobble them somehow."

"What!" I said incredulously. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Language Katie," said Jenna. "I'm sure you're father's not talking about anything illegal, but business is business. We at least need to find out how they're getting all this work."

"Um, because they're good?" I said sarcastically. "It's called competition people. Backbone of the capitalist system. You have a product, they have a product. If people like their product more than yours, then you're just going to have to make your product better. I mean, Jesus. Catch up. Our website looks like it's been designed on Windows 95 for starters. And your displays, they're old fashioned. You need to move with the times. The modern audience is more sophisticated. They've got the whole world at their fingertips. They're entertained by layers of sophisticated technology in their own homes. The live experience has got to top that, to bring them the kind of excitement they can't find anywhere else."

"See, now we're getting somewhere," said Jenna to Rob. "Katie knows what she's talking about from working on all those fashion shows. What is it that makes these kids so good?"

Dad stared moodily down at his plate.

"You were there Dad," I said.

"Well the design was quite clever, I suppose," he grumbled.

"It was fucking awesome," I said.

"But they had all that funny music with it," he moaned. "I didn't like it."

"Yeah, but the audience did," I insisted. "They were dancing."

"Yeah well they were all hyped up from that funny show beforehand," he muttered. "And the water made everything look twice as pretty."

"Yeah well I've also seen her do a regular three grand blaster that would have blown you out of the park," I said. "Effy believes in what she does, and that's the difference."

"Effy is this French girl?" quizzed Jenna. "_She's_ the designer?"

"Yes, and before you go all homo ignoramus on me again," I said, cutting Dad off before he could diss her abilities. "She trained with Thierry."

That shut him up. It shut everyone up. The only pyro guy that everyone knew by first name only. I didn't feel guilty for telling them. It wasn't a secret that Effy worked for him. It was plastered all over their elegantly designed website. And why wouldn't it be? It carried weight.

"How well do you know this girl?" said Jenna.

Not as well as I'd like to, came the involuntary thought. I had to look away to regain my equilibrium, but my mother caught my frown.

"I know it's difficult, dear," she said. "But I know you don't want to see the family business in trouble. I think you should make friends with this girl. Find out what makes her tick. Like you said, it's competition, and even in sport people do research on their rivals."

I looked back to see Jenna sporting what she must have thought was a winning smile, but the truth was, she had missed a fabulous career opportunity as a blackmailer. Of course my family mattered to me. We had it hammered into us our whole lives. Fitches stick together.

"Fine," I said reluctantly. "I'll go to the rally with them."

"There's my Katie," said Jenna proudly.

Truth was, Effy had already asked me to help out at the gig. So now I was not only lying to Effy and the boys, I was also lying to my family. How the fuck did I get mixed up in this again? Oh yeah, by throwing my fucking weight around and losing my job. Maybe I should just punch _myself_ in the face next time. It would be about as effective. I readily accepted James's offer of a cheeky spliff in the garden after dinner. For a while we sat silently and smoked, watching streaks of red fade out in the slowly darkening sky. For all he could be an annoying little prick, like a faithful dog he also knew how to just shut up and be there for you sometimes.

"It's gonna be a good summer," he said eventually.

It's going to be a fucking confusing one, James, I thought.

"So, this Effy?" he said. "Exactly how fit is she?"

.

.

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So there I was again, in full secret agent mode, wrapped up in my Michelin man firing suit. Seriously, if I was going to continue this subterfuge, I was going to have to get one of my own that fitted me. I could come to terms with being some kind of fucked up double agent stuck somewhere between Le Coeur and the Fitch family, but I couldn't cope with looking this shit whilst doing it. The show was down in Cardiff bay near the docks. Apparently the May Fest woman used to work for Cardiff Events, and she had been singing Effy's praises to her old teammates who had passed on the recommendation to the rally people. The event was some kind of time trial thingy, where they did laps round a dirt circuit instead of being out in the countryside, but it was connected to some big international race, so it was quite a big deal. Effy had been pretty much all business since we had gotten here, but that was understandable. The racing people wanted it to be macho and spectacular, but the site itself was pretty difficult. For one, the audience were sat all around us, so there was no off-site fall-out zone, everything had to burn out within the track itself. Add to that the fact that we were next to some big fuck off oil refinery and we couldn't afford to make any kind of mistakes. She had to balance out the wishes of the client with some pretty hardcore safety issues. I hadn't helped with the fusing cause I'd been working for Dad, but one look at the rigging plan and the amount of stuff that was coming out of the boxes let me know that she was pushing it to the edge. There was going to be a fuck load of material crammed into a pretty tiny amount of space.

Rigging the site had been pretty much like any other gig, but thank fuck the weather had been smiling more kindly on us this time. But the day we were putting the live in, the cars had arrived and were running some practice laps around the track. I don't know the first thing about cars, I've always been more about the boys that drive them, and if you'd asked me beforehand about coming to a show like this I would definitely been more about hanging out in the VIP area and drinking champagne than anything else. But being out there amongst them, you could feel the power of the engines, and by the time the evening came around I had begun to understand why people got excited by this kind of stuff. It was a late night event to fit in with American TV schedules, and we were firing literally just before the race started. The minute we were done those beasts were out on track, and fuck me did they go fast. We had four stations dotted around the arena, and me and the boys were manning one each, armed with a battery to hand fire in case anything went wrong with the system. Not that we were expecting it to, but we had to be on station from the start cause there would be no running across the track once things had kicked off.

My station was tucked right into the apex of a tight hairpin, and all my material was packed pretty tight. One thing was for sure, it was going to be pretty damn exciting in there. I was in the back of the truck sorting out my helmet and radio when I saw Effy walk past. I hadn't seen much of her all day, and I was missing the excitement of our contact.

"Hey," I called out to her. "You doing ok?"

She jumped up onto the tail lift, but then it looked as though she stopped herself from coming any further, hovering outside the truck instead of joining me.

"Yeah, ok," she mumbled. "Bit edgy, but you know…"

"You'll be fine," I said, walking up to the back of the truck.

I saw her body tense, and that's when I realised that her cooler demeanour was not just professional preoccupation. I hung back, not wanting to impose my physical presence upon her. Neither of us were stupid. We both knew that the attraction problem had lingered on far longer than we had anticipated, and if Effy's way of dealing with it was to give us a little bit more distance than usual then I was fine with that. The times that we had shared at that festival had proved to us that what we had was more than lust, and we were still both working out our mechanisms for coping with it. Effy was trying to cool the physicality between us, and I had started dating. Not with much success so far, but at least I was trying. It was sure as hell better than sitting at home moping over her.

"It's going to be a fucking sick show, babes," I said. "Those racing dudes are going to be coming in their pants."

Effy sniggered at my words and her eyes came up to meet mine. Once again we managed to find some kind of unspoken communication. I tried to tell her that I understood. That whatever she was doing was because she was trying to find a way for us to be friends. And that's what I wanted too, and I was cool with what she needed. And in that moment it was true. I loved her, and that was way more important than instant gratification. It might be fucking difficult, but we were both smart, and we both had a will to make it work. I had faith that somehow we would find a way. Effy gave me a brief nod, but her eyes were smiling and that was all I needed to know that we understood each other. This problem was not going to disappear in a puff of smoke, but we were both grown women not hysterical teenagers. And we had something even most actual couples struggled to find. A bond of trust.

Apart from the small fact of one of us being a fucking professional liar, that is.

"I gotta…" said Effy.

"Yeah," I replied, and we went our separate ways.

Out in the field, ready for the go, I was hyped. The atmosphere round the circuit was amazing. You could sense the excitement of the crowd, and the music they were driving out was designed amp it up even further. We got our standbys and the cars began revving up in the background. We would give them three and a half minutes of full on pyromania, and then the first drivers would explode onto the track. The music kicked, and the roar of the cars made my heart pound as the first lifts of pyro rocketed their way into the sky. I burst out laughing as a fan shaped volley of candles erupted into life just a few metres away from me. Seeing it this close up was definitely re-kindling my love for pyro, there was no way you could fail to be excited by this. Because of the site the material was mostly ground based stuff, candles, cakes and mines rather than shells, but it was still pretty damn chunky. Another whopping bang and I turned to watch the flames searing out of a monster cake I had barely been able to lift whilst we were unloading, but it was only a couple of seconds before I realised things were not as they should be. Stars started raining down around me, and exploding when they hit the ground. What should have been happening high above me, was happening right in my face.

It was one of those time slowing down moments as my brain raced trying to figure out what to do. A cake is a large cardboard box packed to the brim with up to a hundred-odd tubes, each one of them containing a shot that would go off in sequence. The fusing was internal so once you'd hit the first one there was no way of stopping it till it was done. They are kind of like those 'display in a box' things they sell to the general public for bonfire night. But where those are little fluffy kittens of a thing, this bitch was a hungry feral tiger and she was fucking roaring at me. The shots should have a lift charge that takes them high out of harm's way before a second charge bursts the stars to create the effect, but occasionally the fuckers can get damaged in transit. They are shipped all the way from China, and if they are dropped too many times, stored the wrong way up or if they get wet and are dried out again the lift charge can get knackered, and what goes up comes down again before the delay has run its course. And that's what was happening to me now.

The first instinct is to run, but I was trapped in the apex of the hairpin, and I was scared of falling down the steep banking onto the track and still being there when the cars kicked off. I couldn't shut the cake off and I knew it had at least another forty-five seconds to run. This was different to getting pasted with a few sparks and bits of debris, and for the first time on a site, I was actually fucking scared. There was only one thing for it. I dropped to my knees and crumpled into as small a ball as I could manage, pulling the neck of my suit up tight and making sure I covered my hands. I was going to have to wait it out, knowing that those forty-five seconds were going to feel like an age. Instinctively, I closed my eyes, even though I knew they were protected by my visor, but they shot open again at the sound of Effy's voice. I hadn't put an earpiece in, but even above the noise I could hear her screaming from the radio where I had dropped it a couple of feet away.

"Katie, are you alright? Katie? Katie, answer me fuck it. Katie? Merde."

She sounded so desperate. I wanted to comfort her but there was no way I was moving until this multi-coloured rain of fire had run its course. Suddenly my body caught up with the situation, and whatever chemicals it manufactures to deal with panic started flooding through my brain and I actually began to feel quite calm. I relaxed my foetal position slightly and began to watch the radiant chaos unfolding around me. I took a few hits to the body, but my suit was doing its job. There was nothing more that I could do other than enjoy the ride. The noise got louder and I could sense that the cake was reaching its finale where it would set off several tubes at once. Not long now. The world went bright as the final lift kicked out of the tubes, and I got fucking pelted with crap, but a huge adrenalin surge rushed through my body. It was over. I had won.

Effy was still yelling into the radio.

"Katie? Oh God Katie. Katie if you don't answer me in the next ten seconds, I'm going to stop the show. Putain de…."

I leapt over and grabbed the radio, depressing the call button as I rolled.

"Don't you dare," I growled triumphantly. And I've told you before, stop calling me a whore."

"Oh fuck are you alright?" she said, and I could hear the massive relief in her voice.

"I'm fine," I said as another bank of candles went off beside me. "This shit looks fucking awesome from in here."

"Are you sure?" she said worriedly.

"Mint as a box of After Eights, babes," I told her. "I'll see you on the other side."

I turned my attention back to the pyro and laughed like a drain throughout the rest of the show. My own body had gotten me high, and Effy's muscular display was fucking thrilling me. By the time she ended the show with three massive mine lifts I was practically jumping up and down for joy.

Most of the derig was going to have to wait till the morning because of the race. The cars were already speeding round the track and we couldn't exactly start lumping loads of dead pyro to and fro. But I still had to pull out the wires from the slave box to bring it in, and check for any live. I had just decided to move one of the cake boxes out of the way, when a car came roaring towards me at incredibly high speed. For a second I was convinced that it wasn't going to make the corner, and would plough right up the bank towards me. Another powerful adrenalin surge kicked through my body, but this time I dropped the box I was carrying and ran like a girl. Of course the driver was skilled and he steered the powerful machine around the bend without a doubt. I let of a joyful string of expletives to celebrate my survival. Fuck me, I was buzzed, and I was totally getting off on it. If I wasn't careful I was going to turn into one of those people who have to jump off tall buildings for kicks.

I took the slave box, and slung a rack of unfired candles over my shoulder before making my way over towards the section of track where I knew there would be race marshals to help me across safely. I waved my hands to attract their attention, till one of the guys saw me and made his way over. He stood with me whilst a couple of the powerful vehicles came surging past.

"Jesus," those things are fast," I said as they flew by.

"That's kind of the point," he grinned.

He put his hand on the small of my back.

"Ready?" he said.

I nodded in reply.

"Go," he said, as soon as the next car had gone, and the pair of us headed across. I went as fast as I could, but he seemed perfectly calm. I expected him to leave me then, but he told me he would walk me back to our base.

"That was a pretty exciting display," he said. "Don't you get scared being out there in the middle of all them fireworks?"

"Nah," I smiled casually (as if I was going to reveal my moment of weakness to a stranger). "They're not so scary if you understand them. I'm more scared of the cars. Aren't you worried one of them's gonna hit you?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "I guess it's what you know, right? But I'm still pretty impressed."

I caught the sparkle in his eyes and smiled to myself. Still got it, Katie Fitch. Even in an outsized overall and a helmet, you still fucking got it.

"So maybe I'll see you in the bar later, yeah?" he said, before going back to his duties.

I had just dumped my crap in the back of the truck and walked round the side when I heard footsteps running towards me. Before I knew it I was bundled up into Effy's arms and I was having the life squeezed out of me. She was kissing me repeatedly on the top of the head.

"Nom de dieu, I'm so glad you're alright," she said breathlessly. "You _are_ alright, aren't you?"

I didn't have time to reply before she launched into another tirade of breathless words.

"Oh fuck. I am so fucking sorry. Did you get hit? Yes, of course you did. Are you ok? Jesus. When I saw that low burster, I was like who the fuck is in the middle of all that shit? But all the lads checked in and then you didn't and I thought something had happened to you and I was so scared. I thought you must have been hurt. Why the fuck didn't you answer me? Bordel de merde. It's ok I'm not angry with you. Fuck, it just freaked me out, you know babes?"

It was the most words I'd ever heard her say in one go, and the whole ragged speech was punctuated with kisses. She kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my eyes and my ears, turning my head this way and that as if inspecting me for burn marks.

"Babes, I had my gear on. I'm fine," I protested, but Effy was not to be dissuaded.

"I am so fucking sorry. Are you positive you are alright?" she said. "Because I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. Je tiens tellement à toi, bordel. I just couldn't fucking stand it…"

By this time she had me backed against the side of the truck, and my heart was hammering harder than it had ever been from the pyro or the cars, because her searching blue eyes were so full of love and she looked like she was about to fucking kiss me. Yet again, my body kicked into chemical production overdrive, and my brain was so alive with neurotransmitters I don't think I would have had the will to stop her. I stood there with my mouth partly open, breathless myself from the force of her assault, just waiting to feel her lips on mine. But the blessed sensation never came. It looked like she had stopped herself just in time.

We were frozen. Her words dried up, but Effy didn't stop looking at me with that volatile mixture of concern and desire. I should have pushed her away, but I couldn't fucking move. My body was craving her and my brain was too confused to override it. She tangled her hands in my overall and rested her forehead against mine. We inhaled and exhaled deeply through our mouths, breathing the same air, as if even by sharing the same atoms of oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide we could caress each other and sneak our way round the forbidden nature of our love.

"Fuck," said Effy softly.

"I know," I replied, wilfully resisting the urge to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.

Still we couldn't break the deadlock. I could see a mighty battle raging in her eyes. She was fighting with herself, and I suddenly wondered if Anna had fought this hard for me before she finally gave in to her desires. It was the thought of that pain that finally woke me up from my daze.

"Effy, I can't…" I said, unsure of whether I was saying I couldn't be with her or I couldn't stand to be without her a moment longer.

"I should…" she said, finally dragging her eyes away from my face and looking over in the vague direction of something she should have to be doing.

But that was as far as she got. Her hands remained tangled in the fabric of my suit, and when she turned back to me her eyes were still ablaze.

"Effy, one of us has to actually leave," I said. "I'm seriously failing here."

"You're right," she said. "I should go and speak to the client."

I could tell she was fishing for something strong enough to pull her away from me. She finally dropped my clothing, but brought her hands up to cup my face instead.

"Are you sure that you're ok?" she asked again. "It must have been so scary."

"For the hundredth time, I'm fine babes," I insisted. "I come from tough stock. All the women in my family are well hardcore."

"I'm so sorry," she apologised again.

"I get it," I said. "It wasn't your fault. The cake was fucked. It happens. Now go."

"I just…" she attempted.

"Effy, go," I said, finally finding the strength to take her hands from my face and gently push her away. "I don't need you to say it."

She blew all the air out of her lungs, and reluctantly peeled herself away. Without another word, she turned and slowly walked off into the darkness. I watched her every step of the way, praying that she didn't turn round to look at me again, knowing that if she did it would be the end of both of us. I could tell she was having exactly the same struggle that I was, but somehow she managed to make it to the front of the truck and disappear from sight without weakening. I waited several seconds just to see if she would reappear, before banging my head back against the truck and shouting 'fuck, fuck, fuck' at every blow.

"Fucking hell," I said, rubbing the sides of my head with my hands. "Why the fuck couldn't I have met her when she was in her 'whore' phase?"

"You know, I still in _my_ whore phase," came a cheeky voice from the tailgate.

"Jesus Christ, Cook," I snapped at him. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me? It's not going to end well for you."

"Well I didn't exactly sneak," he said, jumping down and walking towards me. "But ya did seem kinda 'distracted'."

Oh sweet shitting cuntfuck.

"How long have you been there?" I asked.

"Long enough to know why you won't fuck me," he grinned.

"Oh God," I exclaimed in dismay.

"It's ok," said Cook, giving my arm a friendly squeeze. "We've all been there. She is damn near irresistible."

"At least you got to fuck her," I moaned.

"Judging by the look on her face, I'd guess you'll be getting to fuck her pretty soon," he replied.

"No," I replied forcefully. "She's with someone. I won't do that. I won't make her cheat on him."

"Yeah well, as long as you've got a stick to beat her off with," he smirked. "I've seen that look before."

I had to smile at the thought of a sexually raging uncontrollable Effy coming for me, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"It was just cause she was freaked, because of the cake and all," I insisted.

"Yeah, I heard you got a proper pasting. You alright?" he asked.

"Least of my fucking problems right now," I shrugged.

"Yeah, Effy's way more dangerous than a piddly fucking firework," he smiled wickedly. "Good luck with that whole holding out on her thing."

"I can't give in," I smiled. At least Cook wasn't judging me, and it was a relief to have someone to share it with. "It's wrong."

"Well seeing as you're such a fine upstanding citizen," he said. "Any idea what the fuck you're going to do about it?"

"Move the fuck on," I replied. "I've already been out with a few guys, but none of them seem to have stuck.'

"Ah well that's where you're going wrong," Cook nodded sagely. "Clearly none of them are man enough for you. I, however, have got the answer."

"Really?" I said, humouring him even though I knew where this was going.

"It's in my pants," he said proudly. "Seek and ye shall find."

His ridiculous humour dissipated the last of the tension in my bones, and as I looked across at his optimistically boyish grin, I was suddenly reminded of how fit he looked with his shirt off. I felt happy in his company, I got on with him and he made me laugh. I had to do fucking something, and what did I have to lose? He wasn't the type to get all mardy if it didn't pan out.

"Ok then," I sighed.

"What?" spluttered Cook.

"Let's give it a go," I shrugged.

"Seriously?" he said, his eyes lighting up.

"I can't go on like this," I said. "And I do kinda like you…"

"They all come to the Cookie Monster in the end," he said, advancing on me.

"Hold your horses there, soldier," I said, putting my hand up to block his path. "You're not in my kickers yet. And reign in the ego or you won't be getting there either. Why don't you take me out? Away from all this? And we'll see how it goes."

"Fair enough, Princess," he replied. "I can work with that."

"And you're going to have to impress me, yeah?" I said firmly. "Waving your cock around in my general direction isn't going to cut it."

"Game on, Katiekins," he laughed. "Cookie likes a challenge."

Whatever I had let myself in for, it was going to be entertaining at least.

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**What Effy says (though Katie doesn't know it, or I think she would have just kissed her anyway and to hell with the consequences). Again adapted rather than directly translated from the original English… thanks to blueeyedfrog who I interrupted on a night out for emergency interpretation. **

**Je tiens tellement à toi, bordel. - You are so fucking precious to me**


	12. An Illusion

**So, firstly many many apologies for how long it's taken me to post this – mostly to the person who matters most in all of this – SJ, who is medically more stable at the moment, but who still has a lot of tough times ahead, so keep that love coming people. Let her know she matters. **

**I can only say in my defence that there were mitigating circumstances… I have been working very hard (doing an outdoor show in very sub-zero temperaures – madness, but fun madness) on about four different brilliant projects. It's been intense. And on top of all that, someone (you know who you are) has been distracting me… all very good times for Hypes.**

**Thanks are due once again to Blueeyedfrog, who came up with the most wonderful phrase for Effy whilst we were discussing her interpretations – 'monosyllabic in her excitement'. I love that.**

**I don't own Skins, cause if I did it would not have people dying all the time.**

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12. An Illusion

Effy

I try not to drift off, honestly I do, but sometimes I just can't help it. Something about the tone of his voice and the inanity of some of the things he fixates upon means that sometimes he just glances off my surface. Don't get me wrong, I love him for his patience. The way he can listen to all the boring people we have to deal with to set up shows without wanting to rip his own ears off, never ceases to impress me. I need him for that, and I certainly wouldn't be where I am today without him. I guess I owe him for that. I came back from France that first time bursting with ideas and excitement, but the reality of actually making it happen was something I could never have done on my own. Ideas were never the problem. Ideas, I was good at. Creativity is something that buzzes constantly in my brain, just like it does in Cook's, but we needed someone to steer the ship whilst we chucked fuel on the fire.

Freddie was always a lovely lad, but nobody ever thought he would amount to much. Je suppose qu'on a tous quelque-chose à prouver, hein? But once we decided to follow my dream, he discovered talents that none of us realised he had. He is a charmer, and he uses it to our advantage whilst buttering up prospective clients. But he is also methodical. He will chase down all the documents, make sure all the paperwork is in order, write the risk assessments, and make sure all the bills get paid on time. I think that's when things changed for me. The work that Freddie takes on is the least glamorous part of what we do, and yet he takes it all on with the same enthusiasm. I could never quite fathom why someone like him would fall in love with someone like me, and I guess a part of me never quite trusted that. But when I saw how much enthusiasm he had for the work, how passionate he became about my dream, I suddenly found myself starting to love him back. It was as if I could understand his love for our ambitions a lot easier than I could accept his love for me. But then the two things began to merge into one. I was the work. I was the dream. Je pouvais me permettre d'aimer à mon tour.

But then there were days like today. Days when I felt myself sliding. Is it inevitable that couples will run out of steam? Like the laws of thermodynamics, which assert that the whole universe will drift inexorably towards a cold dead silence? I know for sure that my mother stopped listening to my father years before she left him. Should I write on my blackboard that I must try harder? Aren't relationships supposed to take work? I wouldn't know. This is the only one I've had. I felt the touch of his hand on mine, and slipped gently back into focus. He was smiling at me with a beautiful gentle adoration in his eyes, and it made me feel warm inside. Après toutes ces années passes à fuire l'amour comme la peste, ce n'était pas si mal d'être aimée.

We were in town, doing the kind of normal things that couples do. Freds wanted to get some new trousers so I went round the shops with him. It was fine. I could just zone out to music on my phone until he popped out from the changing rooms wanting my opinion. I told him he looked good in all of them. Because he did. Especially when he did a twirl. Don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at that bum. He had finally settled on a pair that he liked, and now we were sitting outside some coffee place having lunch. It was nice. It was ordinary. It was everything that I had wanted when I'd decided that I needed to grow up.

But then he had started wittering on about some shit or other, and I found myself reverting to my default position of appearing only vaguely connected to the shimmering of this universe, whilst I retreated into my own world. My eyes slid away seeking something of interest and that's when I saw her. Staring down from the billboard in some perfume ad, looking aloof and dangerous as usual, and altogether bad. Anna Markova. It was absurd that even now her digitised image could still have the same effect on me. A slight quickening of the pulse, a subtle surge of sexual energy ricocheting through my muscles, a gentle shiver running down my spine. Except now it was worse. Knowing that Katie had touched that flesh for real. Knowing that they had shared deep and loving kisses. Knowing that they had… Oh sweet fucking Jesus. Une bonne petite amie ne penserait pas à ce genre de choses du tout. A good girlfriend would emotionlessly acknowledge the aesthetic of the model's beauty, but be more interested in the product she was selling than the woman herself. A good girlfriend would buy the perfume to make herself more attractive to her man. But I was no ordinary girlfriend. I continued to look over his shoulder and stare.

Freddie finally noticed my lack of attention and turned to discover what had so captivated me so. His sigh was suppressed, but I could feel the weight of it from across the table.

"You've really got a thing for that Russian," he said, trying to make a joke of it. "It's hard to imagine that her and Katie were…"

"Lovers," I finished his sentence for him.

It wasn't hard for me to imagine it at all. It was fucking hard to stop the images of them being intimate from flooding through my brain. It was well near impossible to stop the scorching jealously over the fact that the two of them had fucked. It was worse to remember that they had been in love. Anna was a fool. What kind of idiot had Katie Ford in her grasp, and then was stupid enough to let her go?

"Do you fancy her?" asked Freddie, suddenly serious.

"You know I do," I shrugged.

"No, Katie," he said earnestly. "Do you fancy Katie?"

So now I had a choice. A lie? Or a version of the truth? It was to my shame that I even held the debate for a few moments. Freddie deserved so much more than lies.

"Yes," I replied calmly. "I find her sexually attractive."

It was like something had suddenly sucked all the air out of his body, and I watched him slump towards the table with his head in his hands. It was horrible. Would it have been kinder to lie? I had modified my behaviour for him, but I couldn't change who I was.

"But I also find Cook sexually attractive," I added.

He looked at me like I was kicking him in the gut, but I had to continue until I had made my point.

"I also find Thomas sexually attractive," I said.

I looked out onto the street, my eyes scanning for prey, much like they would have done in the old days.

"That guy there in the Rolling Stones T-shirt," I said softly. "That guy, loading boxes into that building. The girl on her mobile across the street. The dude with the headphones. The MILF at the bus stop with the two kids. The older guy in the suit getting out of that car. That chick with the tattoos. Need I go on?"

"Please don't," said Freddie shakily.

"My point being," I said gently. "Is that I find people sexually attractive. I could have sex with any one of those that I just pointed out, and many more. But I don't. Because of you."

"Is that what you're doing when you stare at people?" asked Freds. "Checking them out?"

"No," I replied. "I'm not looking for opportunities. Most people seem to work on the assumption that when you fall in love you should stop even seeing other people as attractive, but I'm not that girl. I'm not the girl next door who is grateful she has managed to bag herself a man. You _know_ what I was like. I'm naturally promiscuous. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend those other people don't exist. But I made a choice Freddie. I chose you."

He broke out into a grin at my words.

"But this is not a passive thing I'm doing here, honey," I told him. "I'm still having to make that choice every day. Your job is to make sure I keep on making it."

"So no pressure then," he said sarcastically.

"You asked," I shrugged.

He shook his head at me from across the table.

" I really love you, Effy," he said.

"I know you do," I said, taking his hand. "And trust me. It does matter to me. Just make sure it's _me_ that you love, and not some gentrified imagining of me. I don't want to disappoint you just for being who I am."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I just get so…"

"Insecure? Jealous? Paranoid?" I teased him.

"Shut up," he laughed, flicking the foam from his coffee at me. He looked back over his shoulder at the giant Russian supermodel staring down at us from the billboard.

"I suppose she is pretty damn fit," he admitted.

"Yes. She is," I replied.

He was talking about Anna. I was thinking about Katie.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing two days later when the whole gang of us had decided to take off to the beach for the day. I was watching Katie splashing around at the edge of the water playing with Thomas and Freddie. It was the first hot day of the season, and like true Brits everyone was running around as if they were in the Mediterranean. Children were romping in the sea. Insufficiently sunblocked men in shorts were ignoring the fact that their upper bodies were turning pink. Women squeezed into ill-fitting sundresses they hadn't worn for a year. And Katie was wearing a bikini.

"I know what you're thinking," said Cook, sneaking up beside me.

I turned towards him and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "Because I'm thinking it too."

Cook was a former lover and one of my oldest friends. There are very few people on this earth who really know me, but he is one of them. In many ways he knows me even better than Freddie does. I have no need to censor myself with Cook the way I do with Freddie. He has seen the worst of my excesses, but he understands me more than you would ever give him credit for. He doesn't judge. It would be a relief to have someone to share this burden with, but that doesn't mean I'm going to hand it to him on a plate.

"Yeah?" I said sceptically, cocking my head to one side. "What am I thinking then?"

"You're thinking about fucking her," he replied.

You've got to love that about the boy. He's never one to mince his words out of politeness.

"You're thinking about getting her naked and making her wet," he continued. "You're thinking about sucking on those beautiful titties."

"Stop it," I said.

"What?" scoffed Cook. "We both know it's true. I'm only saying what you don't have the balls to. You're thinking about spreading her wide and getting all up in her cunt. Slamming yourself into her hard until she's fucking screaming for ya. Shafting her harder and faster till she's begging for it. Ya wanna own her. Ya wanna fuck her like she's…"

"STOP IT!" I said, as my hand slammed into his chest.

Cook looked down at it in shock. I was just as surprised. I never hit people. I never need to. I never lose control like that. I manipulate them with my icy glare. I intimidate them with the sheer fucking force of my will. Je n'ai nul besoin de violence.

"Stop it," I repeated softly. "Don't talk about her like that."

I could see the realisation rising in Cook's face like a dawn.

"Good God," he said slowly. "You really fucking like her, don't you?"

The answer was obvious. I didn't need to spell it out for him.

"Don't say anything," I said.

"Not my business to tell, princess," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," I replied flatly. "I'm with Freddie. It matters. I don't want to fuck things up."

"That's a first," he grinned.

"I'm serious," I insisted.

"How serious?"

"Very."

"Good, because I've asked her out."

A small derisive snort of laughter escaped my lips.

"Cook you've pretty much been asking her out every day since you met her," I scoffed.

"Small point of clarification," he countered. "I've been asking her for a shag every day since we met. This time I asked her out."

"_You_ asked her out?" I said scathingly.

"Well strictly speaking she told me to ask her out," he admitted. "So it was a fairly good bet that she'd say yes."

Oh bollocks. So here it was, the neat little paint by numbers solution that I'd been aching for. Katie gets with Cook and we all live happily ever after, going on double dates and wallowing in our neat little Ikea existence until we start spitting out children and working just to fill their hungry mouths. Except who am I trying to kid? Ça ne nous ressemble pas, aucun de nous. Truth was, I _was_ thinking about all the things Cook had accused me of. His filthy words had only stirred more thoughts of all the filthy things I wanted to do to her. And just how much I hated the thought of him doing them instead. But Katie was complicit in this new development, and that changed everything.

"She's had enough, Eff," said Cook, shocking me out of my thoughts. "Says she can't go on like this."

"She told you about us?" I questioned.

What the fuck did I say that for? There is no _us_.

"She didn't have to," replied Cook. "I caught your little _not_ kiss at the rally. Sexiest fucking thing I've seen in a long time. I thought you were going to tear each other apart."

"So when are you two going on this supposed date?" I asked, my deceptively calm exterior, masking my inner turmoil. Jesus I almost had to stop myself making air quotes when I said the word 'date'. What the fuck is this girl doing to me? Good job I've had years of practice at appearing not to give a fuck.

"Tonight," said Cook cautiously.

It was clear he was testing the ground, looking for my reaction. Luckily, I could still fool most of the people most of the time. Even him.

"Good," I said coolly. "She deserves to have some fun. But fuck her around and I'll rip your balls off myself."

"Yes ma'am," said Cook, saluting me. "I promise not to be a dickhead."

"That's a first," I smirked.

Later that night, I popped down to the kitchen to make Freddie and I a cup of tea. We had been having a lovely chilled out evening watching movies and smoking spliff. I had snuggled up into his arms on the sofa, and let myself just drift away into the beautiful colours of the film. For those brief moments, I was able to let go of the pressure that always haunted me. I was able to be content. These were the moments that I cherished with Freddie, those rare moments when I was calm, and everything could just be. Quand l'illusion de la bonne petite amie était à son plus tangible.

I wasn't surprised to find Thomas still there. He had a small studio in the attic space on the other side of the barn from me and Freddie where he could work on his music. I offered him a brew, but he declined, saying he was on his way back home. He was packing some stuff into his backpack, when a brightly coloured flyer caught my eye.

"What's that?" I asked him, not wanting to miss a party. There was still enough of the old Effy left in there to want to know when potential thrills were in the air.

"C'est une soirée d'enfer," he answered me in our native tongue. "En extérieur sur le toit de Merrick's. Le line-up est mortel."

"Quand?" I said, allowing a hint of excitement to enter my voice.

"C'est ce soir" he replied. "Cook voulait quelque-part où il pouvait enmener Katie si elle voulait sortir après leur rencard, alors j'ai recommendé ça."

My hands balled into fists by my sides. Everything I had been trying to forget came rushing back to smack me hard in the face. The only thing I could think was that it should have been me. What the fuck was I doing having a quiet night in on the fucking sofa, when I could have been at the sweetest party in town with the most beautiful girl in Bristol? I should be dancing. I should be getting shitfaced. Ça devrait être mes mains qui parcourent son corps, pas les siennes. Was this what I had become? Some pathetic little stay at home girlfriend? The old Effy howled in agony inside me, begging to be released, and I felt myself ripping in two. I had chosen. I had chosen this life for myself. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Why had Katie come along and fucked everything up for me? Thomas kissed me on the cheeks and bade me goodbye, but I remained stuck in the kitchen staring at the flyer in my hands, the cups of tea long abandoned on the side. I don't know why I even bothered with the debate. As soon as Thomas had planted the seed in my head, there was only ever going to be one answer. No matter how deeply I tried to bury her, old Effy was not going down without a fight.

When I went back upstairs, Freddie was watching some shit on the TV. He barely glanced up when I entered the room.

"Did you have to grow the tea yourself?" he laughed.

"I'm going out," I said.

"What?" he frowned. "It's after eleven."

"And that, my love is when the interesting people come out to play," I replied. "I just found out about a party, and it sounds too good to miss."

"I thought we were gonna have a quiet one," he said. "I don't really feel like going out."

I know I had promised him, but the illusion was starting to crack. I no longer knew which version of my life was the real one. My relationship with Freddie was not a spectre. It had value. So why would the old hunger never let me rest? Who was I? I might be conflicted and confused, but one thing I knew was that staying passive was not going to help me discover the truth.

"You can do what you like," I said. "I'm going to go out and get a life."

.

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WHAT EFFY AND THOMAS SAY:

1. Je suppose qu'on a tous quelque-chose à prouver, hein? - I guess we all had something to prove, eh?

2. Je pouvais me permettre d'aimer à mon tour. - I could allow myself to love in return.

3. - Après toutes ces années passes à fuire l'amour comme la peste, ce n'était pas si mal d'être aimée. - After all those years of being terrified of it, it wasn't so bad to be loved. (the literal translation for this has Effy 'fleeing like the plague' from love, which I think is fabulously appropriate)

4. Une bonne petite amie ne penserait pas à ce genre de choses du tout - A good girlfriend would not think of these things at all.

5. Je n'ai nul besoin de violence. - I have no need for violence.

6. Ça ne nous ressemble pas, aucun de nous - We are not those people, none of us are.

7. Quand l'illusion de la bonne petite amie était à son plus tangible - When the illusion of the good girlfriend was at its most real.

8. "C'est une soirée d'enfer," he answered me in our native tongue. "En extérieur sur le toit de Merrick's. Le line-up est mortel."

"It's a fantastic club night," he answered me in our native tongue. "Outdoor gig on the roof of Merrick's. The line up is the shit."

9. "Quand?" – When?

10. "C'est ce soir" he replied. "Cook voulait quelque-part où il pouvait enmener Katie si elle voulait sortir après leur rencard, alors j'ai recommendé ça."

"It's tonight," he replied. "Cook wanted somewhere to take Katie if she wanted to go on somewhere after their date, so I recommended it."

11. Ça devrait être mes mains qui parcourent son corps, pas les siennes - It should be my hands all over her body instead of his.

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**Thanks for reading. I'll try not to take so long next time. Spread the love xx**


	13. In Another World

**Once again apologies for the gap, but I got roped in to do the sound design for the show I'm on at the moment, and have been spending every spare minute chained to my headphones. Worth it though. It sounds fucking Hypersweet.**

**Now the following chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature. If they're not to your taste I suggest you skip over them, but come back for the end, cause it's rather fucking lovely**.

**Big shout out to SJ, who's moving hospitals again, and hopefully towards a full recovery. Love to you, girl xx.**

**I don't own Skins, but into each life some rain must fall.**

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13. In Another World

Katie

There really were no other words for it. I was going to have to go with one of the classics.

"What the actual fuck, Cook?" I said.

I felt myself melting a little at the wounded look in his eyes, but then I looked back at the disaster in front of us, and my sympathies evaporated.

"What the fuck kind of date is this?"

"You said I had to make an effort," he replied.

"So you brought me here?" I said scathingly, waving my hand in the direction of the ugly building. "Wherever the fuck 'here' is."

"Roundview College," said Cook defensively.

Emily and I had gone to a posh girls school, but we knew all about Roundview, and its dreadful reputation.

"Last time I heard, that place was a breeding ground for social misfits and reprobates," I scoffed.

"Me and the lads went here," said Cook. "And Effy, before she buggered off to France."

"I rest my case," I replied, softening slightly, suddenly remembering what I was here for at the mention of her name. I was here to find an escape route, and Cook was a pretty buff looking escape route. I owed it to myself to give him a chance. I frowned as we walked through the gates of the college, trying to come up with a reason why he might have brought me here.

"I'm sorry, Cook," I sighed. 'But breaking in somewhere and smashing things up isn't exactly in my top ten list of things to do on a romantic night out."

"I'm not… we're not," he protested, but he was cut short as an excited looking teenage girl came up to us.

"Are you here for the fashion show?" she asked us.

"Fashion show?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"The kids have put it on," said Cook. "It's for charity. I thought it would be something different. My little brother Paddy is one of the models. I thought it would be a chance to get to know more about me. And I know you're into clothes and all that shit."

He looked at the ground sheepishly, and I suddenly realised this idea represented a monumental amount of thought and consideration for a guy like Cook, who was more used to picking up girls in pubs and nightclubs. My anger dissipated as I understood what an incredibly sweet gesture this was.

"Thank you," I said, kissing him on the cheek. "It's a great idea. I'm sorry I was such a total bitch. I don't know why you'd want to go out with me at all."

"I can think of two good reasons," he smirked at me.

Normal service had been resumed.

"Come on then, Romeo," I laughed. "Let's go look at some clothes and shit."

I decided to kick cynical Katie into touch, and allow myself to enjoy the show. The kids had taken over an outdoor plaza, built themselves a little catwalk, and transformed the space with some lighting. They had put quite a lot of effort into it, and as they started to strut their stuff, I was surprised to discover that some of their ideas showed flair and innovation. I clapped eagerly at the arrival of each new model, even the ones who looked a little gauche and uncertain on the runway. We were surrounded by proud parents here to cheer on their offspring, but from the little I knew of Cook's background, Paddy was not going to have that kind of support. A handsome looking young lad arrived on the catwalk strutting his stuff and playing to all the girls. I could almost feel Cook's chest swelling with pride as he approached us.

"That's my little bro," he said happily. "That's my Paddy."

"He's fit," I teased. "Maybe I should dump you and go for the younger model."

Despite himself, Paddy couldn't help but lose his cool and give Cook a little wave when he spotted us. The pair of them were so cute, I found my hand drifting over to Cook's leg to give it a little squeeze. When I felt the hard and powerful muscles that lurked underneath his trousers, I felt my first surge of genuine sexual excitement, and decided to leave my hand there for the rest of the show.

Afterwards there was a bit of a party for the participants, and Cook asked me if I'd like to go and meet Paddy. I accepted with a genuine good will, and I was sipping on a glass of cheap red wine when a large man with a strange looking haircut and a powder blue tuxedo came bounding up to us.

"Mr Cook," he said, in a booming Welsh accent. "How lovely to see you again. What did you make of our little shindig tonight?"

"Top notch, Doug," replied Cook slapping him on the back.

"It only seems like yesterday you and your cronies were running round here getting into mischief," said Doug. "How's the big wide world treating you?"

"Not so bad, Doug," said Cook. "Got my own business now. With Freds and Thommo and Effy. We run a fireworks company. Respectable and everything."

"Pyrotechnics, eh?" said Doug, clearly impressed. "So do we get to chalk you up as one of our successes?"

"I'd say so," grinned Cook. "Who would have thought it, eh?"

"And how is Effy?" asked Doug, a slight frown of concern clouding his brow.

"Cleaned up her act real good," Cook reassured him. "She's actually the brains behind the operation."

"Oh I'm so glad to hear that," sighed Doug. "One did wonder, you know…"

"What about you mate?" said Cook. "I heard they finally made you Head."

"Yes indeed," announced Doug. "Roundview is now my kingdom. Maybe you might think about taking one or two of our youngsters on their work experience. I'm sure it would be more fulfilling for them than working down the local shoe shop."

"I'll see what we can do Doug," said Cook. "Give something back to the old place, eh?"

"Excellent," said Doug. "Oggy, oggy, oggy."

He punched Cook in the arm and wandered off to talk to more guests. I barely had time to quiz him on his eccentric ex-teacher before he was rugby tackled to the ground.

"Nice one, Cookie, you came," said Paddy, sitting on top of his brother.

"Said I would, didn't I?" said Cook, throwing him off and climbing to his feet.

"Did you like it?" asked Paddy earnestly. "I didn't look lame, did I?"

"You were great mate," replied Cook, ruffling his hair.

"You need to work on your footwork," I said. "And refrain from waving from waving at your relatives on the runway, but it wasn't a bad start. You managed to own the stage, and yet give the clothes room to breathe without stealing all the attention."

Paddy's eyes snapped towards me, looking me up and down with filthy intent.

"Nice one, Cookie monster, who's the fox?"

"Back off little bro, the fox is with me," chided Cook. "This is Katie. She used to work in fashion."

"Really?" said Paddy, his eyes bugging out, before launching into a hundred questions about my former job. He started to call his mates over, and before long, I was surrounded by a gang of star struck teenagers swooning and gasping as I reeled off the names of the models and designers I had worked with. It was a nice feeling. It made me feel important again. I was starting to forget that world, and it was a startling reminder of just how much I had lost that day in Paris.

"Do you miss it?" asked Cook, once we had finally escaped my fan club and were heading to the pub for some decent alcohol. "All that glamour."

"Yeah, I do," I replied. "But not as much as I thought I would."

And it was true. When I was reminded of it, on nights like tonight, it loomed large in my consciousness and filled me with regret. But if I'm honest with myself, ever since I met Effy, and started hanging out with Le Coeur, its influence on me had declined. I would certainly have struggled to find many people as honest and appealing as Cook and his buddies, people who seemed to love me for who I am, and not what they could get from me.

"You know what? Fuck the past," I said. "We should live in the now, right?"

"Works for me," said Cook.

A couple of hours and several vodka tonics later, we pushed through a set of heavy double doors to emerge onto the roof of Merrick's. We were greeted by an assault of heavy bass and the sight of a couple of hundred people getting wonky on the dance floor. Many others were clustered round the outdoor bars that had been set up, or chatting excitedly around the nooks and crannies and specially built furniture on the roof. An impressive light show danced across their faces, and scattered through the crowd were stilt walkers, fire breathers and other entertainers. At one end of the rig they'd built some kind of aerial rig, and two women in metallic lycra were weaving their way gracefully up and down coloured fabrics. Cook threw his head back and howled into the night sky.

"This is fuckin mint," he declared to the universe, and I was inclined to agree with him.

"Drink?" he offered.

"Just a bottle of Sol or something," I said.

This party was only just starting and I wanted to be awake enough to enjoy it. Cook grabbed my hands and pulled me close into him.

"I've got pills and coke," he whispered in my ear. "But we don't have to go there if you don't wanna."

"Maybe just a line of coke," I said, for the same reasons for which I had chosen the beer. "And let's see where the night takes us."

"Consider it done," he replied, handing me a packet of fags, which I knew must have contained the wrap. "You go get yourself sorted, and I'll get us some beers."

Of course, it's never just one line, is it? Thomas had been right, this party was absolutely banging. Cook and I soon threw ourselves into the spirit of things, drinking and snorting and flinging ourselves round on the dancefloor. I was pleasantly surprised. The boy could certainly move. Enhanced by the drink and drugs and the lighting and the heavy tunes he certainly cut a fine figure on the dancefloor. And so far he had been the perfect gentleman. It was time to put a stop to that. I moved closer to him and put one hand around his neck moving in time with him. His shit-eating grin grew wider, and he slipped his hands around my waist. I let it ride like that for a little while, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it. It felt good to be the centre of his attention, especially as his hands began to wander, travelling up and down my back and then sliding down across the curve of my ass. It felt good to be in the middle of the loved up mass, exchanging dopey smiles with the other dancers. I let him spin me round and pull me closer, smiling when I felt him start to harden against me.

"Feeling mighty fine there, Katiekins," he whispered in my ear.

"Not feeling too bad yourself, Cookie Monster," I said, pushing my ass back against his cock to let him know exactly what I meant by that.

He started kissing my neck, and I leant back into him, arching my head back to offer him more flesh.

"Oh fuck yeah," he murmured as his kisses travelled down to my bare shoulder, and his arms wrapped around my belly. I felt my pussy start to tingle as he ghosted his fingertips cheekily across my breast. That there was a sexual attraction there was undeniable. But more than that, I liked him. We got on well. He made me laugh, and we had fun when we were together. He was a good sparring partner, and a talented artistic guy. So it hadn't worked out with any of the other lads I'd dated recently, but Cook was different. I liked him for himself and not just as an Effy substitute. Surely it was time to move on and stop moping over a woman I couldn't have. I span round and kissed him on the mouth, our lips opening immediately and our tongues sliding to greet each other. I revelled in the heady sensations of guilt free lust. He was a great kisser.

"Jesus, you're fucking hot, Katie," he said, pulling away. "You're making me well horny. What do you think, princess? Is it a goer?"

I reached my hand down between us and squeezed his cock. He was fully hard and erect for me now.

"Judging by this, I'd say it was definitely a goer," I growled huskily.

"You like that, yeah?" he grinned. "You fancy a slice of big, hard Cookie magic inside you?"

I thought about it for a moment, and came to the rapid conclusion that yeah actually I did. I wanted him to fuck me. I grabbed his tight little ass and pulled him hard against me.

"Think you're man enough for the job?" I teased him.

His answer was to kiss me passionately whilst grinding himself against me, and I felt my knickers getting wet.

"I wanna fuck you, Katie," he said breathlessly.

"I wanna fuck you too," I replied.

We kissed again roughly and filthily, and our hands started roaming more freely. You know those irritating couples you see practically humping each other on the dancefloor, and you just wish they would fuck off somewhere and get it done? Well I'm more than sure me and Cook turned into one of those couples in the minutes that followed. But I didn't care. I was happy in my lust. Feeling his hard muscles underneath my hands, his gorgeous lips setting fire to my own, and his nice hard cock pushing against me with the promise of things to come. I could feel his attentions getting more fevered, and felt like it might be a good idea to get out of here soon, before he couldn't contain himself and suggested a shag in the toilets, and much as though I wanted him, I certainly wasn't going there. But his hand was on my tit and his hot mouth was biting down on my neck and I was finding it hard to summon the strength to pull away.

When suddenly he froze. He stopped dead and all his muscles grew tense with panic.

"Shit," he said, his eyes flicking restlessly around the room.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

Cook took my face in his hands, and focussed his gaze in on me."

"I can't do this," he said regretfully.

"What do you mean you can't do this?" I frowned. "You were all over me a minute ago."

"I'm really sorry," he said, his eyes brimming with sincerity. "I just can't."

"But you want me," I said, grabbing his balls to prove a point.

"Oh. Fuck," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

But despite this evidence, I felt him pull away. His hands slipped down to my shoulders.

"I do," he continued. "I do want you, you know that. But she doesn't want me to have you."

It was my turn to freeze. There was only one woman who mattered enough to Cook to stop him getting his end away. His eyes had ripped away from mine and were locked onto something across the other side of the roof. I span and followed his gaze. And there she was. Effy. Her dark eyes tearing us asunder more effectively than if she had hired a dozen henchmen to drag us apart. Her gaze was quite unreadable. It was far far away from her usual cool superior stare. I couldn't tell if she was jealous or angry. A thousand layered emotions swirled stormily in that fierce gaze, but none of them were pretty. The first thought that filled my head invaded me completely and destroyed everything that had happened in the hours preceding it. She had come for me. She had realised she was going to lose me and she couldn't stand it. So she had finally given into her feelings, and she had come for me, to make me hers. My heart surged at the thought of it, poor Cook a distant memory in the face of this all consuming revelation. I was just about to run to her, to throw myself into her arms with welcome abandon, when another figure entered my field of vision. Freddie. Fucking Freddie. Smiling at her and handing her a drink.

I'm no stranger to the red mist, but this fury was white. It was incandescent. It shot through me and made every cell in my body scream with rage. For a second I was so angry with her I could have fucking killed her. But it burnt out just as quickly as it came. In truth, I was just as angry with myself for believing my little fantasy, my stupid Hollywood ending. I scoffed at myself. What was I expecting? That suddenly she would stop the music in the club, and the DJ would put on some corny love song for her to serenade me with? That everyone in the club would start to join in and then burst into rapturous applause when we kissed? What a pile of shit.

"Fuck you, Effy," I shouted into the crowd. "If you're going to fucking stalk me, at least have the decency to leave your fucking boyfriend at home."

"Come on, Cook. Let's go," I said, grabbing his hand.

He stood rooted to the spot, and yanked me to a halt as I attempted to leave.

"I don't think we should… you know," he said nervously.

"What? You can't even say the word 'fuck' around me now?" I spat angrily. "What are you, her bitch?"

"I just don't want to hurt her," he mumbled defensively.

"I get it," I huffed. "Your precious Effy's more important to you than anything else."

"And she isn't to you?" said Cook.

"No," I said angrily. I didn't want to hear that truth right now. "I don't care, Cook. Just get me the fuck out of here."

Cook finally grew a pair, and escorted me to the door.

"I really am sorry," he said once we had reached the safety of the street. "It's just we've been through a lot, me and her. And those eyes man. They fucking burn me."

"Whatever," I replied. "If I can't have your body, I can still have your coke. And take me somewhere I can get some fucking vodka."

Those eyes, they fucking burn me too, and I just needed to forget.

Cook took me to some dodgy late night bar where everybody seemed to know him by name, and we could rack out lines directly on the table without anyone batting an eyelid. The more wasted I got, the easier it became, and stripped of the pressure, Cook and I slipped back easily into friendly company, our genuine affection for each other unable to be crushed. The dawn had graced the day for a good few hours before we staggered from the bar, blinking at the unfamiliar shininess around us. He walked me back home, his jacket slung around my shoulders, and when we reached my door I was reluctant to let him go. I was still scared of the thoughts that would consume me if I were left alone in this state, too wired to sleep but to wasted to do anything of consequence.

"Are you coming in?" I asked him, as I leant unsteadily in my doorframe.

"Um.." he said shiftily.

"Jesus, Cook. I'm not going to jump you," I said. "You can crash, or at least have a cup of tea before you go."

"Ok,' he said, and lumbered through the door.

I was clattering around noisily in my kitchen attempting to get my shit together enough to make tea, when I heard his voice drifting through from the living room.

"You had a good time though, yeah?" he said.

I wandered back through and saw him lying on his back on the sofa.

"You what?" I sniggered at him.

"Apart from that little hiccup," he said, dragging himself to sitting. "It was a good night, yeah?"

I laughed out loud.

"Apart from that little hiccup where we got cock blocked by a psycho stalker?"

"Yeah, that'd be the one," smirked Cook.

He took a deep breathe before continuing.

"You know you're fucking gorgeous, Katie," he said. "I totally would have."

"So would I," I sighed. "You had me, Cook. After all that trying, you totally had me. I was gonna give you the fuck of your life."

Our eyes locked across the room, and the flames reignited with a vengeance. When I broke the gaze my eyes fell on a tell tale swelling in the front of his trousers.

"Oh God," he moaned.

It was enough. I crossed the room before I had the chance to change my mind and straddled him where he sat. I pushed him back into the sofa and kissed him roughly. His will was broken. He hands flew upwards to my tits and he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I squirmed against his hardness, and felt him jerk up against me. There a few things that are certain in this life, but one of them is that boys will always be boys.

"I believe you mentioned something about a big hard slice of Cookie magic," I purred at him.

Women might still be a fucking mystery to me, but Katie Fitch could always get her man. His hands were already tugging at the zip of my dress, and he pulled it down from my shoulders to reveal my bra-clad breasts. I knew he was a goner now.

"Holy crap," he said, staring at my tits in wonder. "Where did you get these?"

"The bra I got from Agent Provocateur," I smiled. "The tits? Well they're just part of the package."

"It's a fucking mint package," he said, undoing my bra with a practiced ease, casting it aside and taking my nipple in his mouth.

"Jesus," I hissed, as he flicked his tongue across me. The boy had skills, but then again, having listened to his tales, I knew he'd had lots of practice. I was keen to find out what else he could do.

"Take me to bed Cook," I murmured. "I wanna feel you inside me."

He didn't need telling twice. Somehow he managed to stand up with me still wrapped round him. It barely seemed any effort to him. Christ, he was fucking strong. He stood in the middle of the living room, spinning us round and round.

"Where is it?" he said desperately.

"Back that way," I nodded, before kissing him again.

I was still kissing him, my legs locked tightly round him as we stumbled through the bedroom door. He set me down on the bed, pulling my dress from my hips and leaving me in just my knickers, before stepping back and ripping off his shirt to reveal his chiselled upper body. He smirked as he must have caught my eyes flaring with desire at the sight. He kicked off his shoes and socks, and then dropped his trousers and boxers in one fell swoop, flinging them aside with abandon, before slapping himself on the forehead and going to retrieve them.

"You got me so hot I almost forgot the safety equipment," he said, waving a condom in front of him as he returned. "But first things first."

He knelt down before me and pulled my knickers away from me. Immediately he plunged his face between my legs and swiped his tongue across my clit. I gasped in shock. I hadn't expected it, but fuck it felt good.

"Finer than the finest wine," he said, before delving deeper, and I grabbed at his hair and pushed him harder against me. Heightened by the coke that was still coursing through my veins, the sensation of him licking me was absolutely fucking amazing. And he certainly fucking knew what he was doing. Someone somewhere had put a good deal of time and effort into teaching Cook how to satisfy a lady. I shut my eyes and pushed the thought away of who that might have been. I wasn't thinking about her tonight, even though I was almost certainly enjoying her influence. Cook continued to tease me, building me up slowly with his tongue, and it wasn't long before I was breathing heavily and moaning. My legs were spread wide and I was gagging for him to fuck me. I swore loudly when he pulled away from me, but I watched with anticipation as here tore the wrapper from the condom and sheathed himself, before crawling up my body to lie on top of me.

He kissed me passionately, and his hands were working miracles on my tits. Although his actions were rough, they were free from the charmless incompetence of many of the guys I'd fucked. My cunt was aching now and my hips bucked urgently up towards him. He took the hint, and took a moment to guide his cock into me. Once he found me, he thrust deep into me and I moaned and wrapped my legs around him again. Neither of us wasted much time being gentle, and we started as we meant to go on, hard and fast. Cook was amusingly vocal and he was yelling and moaning almost as much as I was as he pumped into me. He straightened his arms and pushed up on them to give himself better leverage, enabling him to thrust deeper inside me.

"Oh fuck Cook, this is…" I cried, as we began to rock the bed.

"Oh my… fuck," he yelled back at me, and we continued to scream at each other in incomplete sentences as we hurtled towards mutual orgasm. Cook started crying out as if he was in pain, and I knew he was close to coming. Just seeing him so worked up for me was enough, and I let myself go, abandoning myself to the high. We were both coked up so we came hard and we came long, ramming our bodies together in an attempt to squeeze every last second of pleasure out of each other before we fell.

"Jesus Fuck Christ Bollocking Fuck Shit…" I screamed, as the waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm me. "Holy Mother of Cunting Putain D'Esti…!"

I felt Cook lurch to a halt above me, and I was momentarily stunned, before my brain woke up, and I realised that what had come out of my mouth had reintroduced a very large elephant into the room.

"Fuck ," said Cook, and not in a good way.

"Ah," I replied and let him pull out of me.

The sex had been phenomenal, but there weren't going to be any fairytale endings tonight.

"You even swear like her," he said. "She's going to fucking kill me."

"She doesn't have to know," I said. "It can be our little secret."

"Like that's ever going to happen," he scoffed. "She'll know. She always knows. She'll take one look at me and then she'll know."

He flipped himself over to lie on his back beside me.

"At least I'll die a happy man," he said.

"Was it worth it?" I smiled.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, a smug grin plastered all over his face.

I looked over at him, and my heart felt a twinge of sadness.

"This isn't going to work out, is it?" I said.

"She's always going to be hanging over us," he replied.

"Fucking Effy," I said, though my voice held no malice.

"Yeah, fucking Effy," agreed Cook, his voice laced with equal affection.

"You know, in another world…" I said.

"We'd fuck like devils and have half a dozen kids. Who's all grow up to be champion prize fighters."

"Formula one drivers."

"Or top fashion designers," smirked Cook. "And they'd all shag supermodels."

"If only that French bitch knew what she was denying our future children," I said shaking my head.

Cook howled with laughter beside me.

"Friends?" he said, reaching out his hand for mine.

"Friends," I agreed, curling my palm around his and giving it a squeeze.

"It was good though, right? I fucking got you off good, yeah?" he said.

Ah, the male ego, such a fragile and delicate flower.

"You fuck like a girl," I told him.

"What?" he said in alarm.

"You scream and you moan," I smiled. "You know how to handle a pair of tits, you took care of my clit, and you gave me a stupendous orgasm. Trust me, it's a compliment."

"I fuck like a girl," he nodded to himself. "Hey, do you think I can use that line to pull lesbians?"

"I don't know," I laughed. "But you managed to pull me, and I'm in love with a girl."

"Sweet," he said, his eyes glowing with possibility.

I smiled and shook my head. I didn't bother to say it out loud, but sometimes he sounded an awful lot like her too.


	14. The Pressure Cooker

**Lots of French in this one, but Effy is munted and her brain keeps returning to her native tongue. Even KFF gets in on the act. So once again thanks to blueeyedfrog for her excellent interpretations. In the interests of authenticity I have asked her not to translate Katie's French so it remains as an English person attempting French mistakes and all.**

**I don't own Skins, but I would like to. Then I could make dozens of Mini episodes and watch Freya Mavor acting for hours. That girl has some serious skills.**

**And love and thoughts to SJ as always xxx**

**.**

**.**

14. The Pressure Cooker

Effy

I pulled the little plastic baggy out of the inside pocket of my jacket. Merde, was that gramme gone already? I held the bag by the top corner and tapped it, shaking the meagre contents down to the bottom to see if I could gather enough to make a line. Fat chance. I cut the bag open with my penkife and licked out the remains. As my tongue went numb from the drug, I turned my mind to the most important question of the day. Where to get more…

Normally my first port of call would be Cook, but I didn't want to see that bastard. He hadn't shown up at the barn today. Probably sleeping off the night's excesses or… Putain de bordel, that was a thought I could not afford to have, so I took another slug of vodka straight from the bottle and called Thomas. I hadn't slept at all since last night, dancing and drinking myself into oblivion after I'd seen Cook with Katie, and dragging poor Freddie along in my wake. We were amongst the last to be thrown out of Merrick's, but I had already scored us an after party, and we carried on throwing drugs down our neck in an attempt to remain in our clouded Nirvana. Whilst there was music and narcotics I could forget what I had seen. And forget the effect that it had on me.

Jusqu'alors, la jalousie n'était que quelque-chose que j'avais lu, pas vécu. I'd watched it wreak its havoc on other people, and had felt myself suitably superior. To me it was a ridiculous emotion that served no purpose at all. It never helped you get what you wanted, and more often than not it destroyed something that had been beautiful in the first place. It amused me how people would put themselves through this nonsensical pain, when we're all just fuck ups anyway. I never really gave a fuck who anybody slept with, and back in the day I could always pretty much get whoever I wanted, regardless of if they were with someone else or not. And as long as I was getting mine, who cared if they were giving it to someone else?

But this? This mess was unfathomable. Katie wanted me, and I had turned her down out of a sense of loyalty to a boy I had run away from for years. I could have had her that very first night at the Old Library. I could have taken things further those nights in her tent. I could have kissed her at the rally. I was the one who had stopped me. I had no right to stake any kind of claim on Katie, and yet I had gone to the party last night to stop her fucking Cook. Even though I had given him my blessing to take her out. Even though there was a massive part of me that just wanted her to be happy. Even though they would make a fucking lovely couple.

But I was not prepared for the sensations that overwhelmed me when I saw them touch. I had coped with all the flirting, because that's just the way Cook is, and I knew that Katie could more than hold her own. But to see them there like that, tongues down each other's throats and hands grabbing hungrily at each other's bodies, practically fucking each other where they stood… It was physical. I felt nauseous. My muscles cramped up until they felt like steel. My heart was hammering faster than it had ever done, even on the fastest drugs. It was all I could do to control myself from shaking. And there was a pain so intense beneath my ribcage that if I didn't know better I could have sworn I was having a heart attack.

But these symptoms were nothing compared to the emotional war that raged in my soul. Je souffrais. J'étais furieuse. Devenais violente. I wanted to tear him away from her physically. I wanted to hurt him, to stop him hurting me. I wanted to fuck her roughly just to make sure she knew who she belonged to. But at the same time I was horrified with myself. This evil feeling had turned me into some kind of monster. I wanted to kill my best friend. I wanted to sexually assault a woman I cared for deeply. I did not like the person I had become under this spell. This feeling was neither normal nor good. This feeling was a venom. If this was what I had become by joining the ranks of the moral majority, then I was fucking better off when I was a whore. When Cook had caught my eye, he had actually looked scared. Katie merely defiant.

I was paralysed. I knew I had done enough to throw Cook off his game, but I was helpless as to what to do next. Je ne pouvais pas aller leur parler avec cette violence dans mon coeur. I knew I didn't have a solution to offer them. So I just stared, and hoped somehow it would be enough to keep them apart. When they left, I had no idea what they were leaving to. But I knew what was coming next for me. I could feel the darkness encroaching all around me, and there was only one way to blot it out.

Drugs, and lots of them. Under their influence I could party the night away without hating myself. And so it continued throughout the night and all of today. But now I had run out and that wasn't any good at all. The sensible thing to do would have been to go to bed and try to sleep it off. Try to rest and then tackle my problems with a clean, fresh head in the morning. But how much did that suck? It was trying to be sensible and normal that had fucked me over in the first place, and all I wanted to do now was get monumentally fucked up, and float along in a place where I didn't give a shit about anything. Fortunately Thomas was doing a DJ set at a venue of dubious reputation enough to have all the right kinds of people there.

I was just trying to fix my make in the bathroom mirror when I was ambushed by a sleepy Freddie.

"Are you going out again, honey?" he frowned at me.

"Yeah," I said non-commitally.

He had followed me out to the roof party, but I certainly wasn't in the mood for his company tonight. My love affair with getting wasted was the only one where there wasn't room for a third party.

"Wasn't last night enough for you?" he said, a pleading note in his voice.

I just scoffed at him in return.

"Have you slept at all?" he said, a note of concern colouring his words.

I offered him a shrug in reply. He shook his head at me in that disapproving way of his, and I knew I had to get out of there.

"Thomas is playing," I said. "I want to go and support my mate."

"I don't think you should go," he said, doing that fucking headshake again.

"Et moi je pense que tu ne devrais pas être un tel fouineur pompeux," I replied.

I saw his nostrils flare in anger, and just smirked at him. I knew he hated it when I used French in an argument, but it was his own fucking fault. Even though we had been together for three years, his French was still fucking appalling, and when I was feeling wicked I had no qualms about using it against him in revenge. I could see him weighing up whether to take this further, when I was saved by the sound of my taxi horn beeping in the yard. I gave my hair one last fluff up in the mirror, and then turned and kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't wait up," I said.

.

.

.

The place was grimy, but friendly, set up in an old warehouse at the shoddier end of town. The music was loud and intense, and the lighting was minimal and dim. Groups of people lurked shiftily in the shadows. To the untrained eye it would have been intimidating, but this was just people doing their own thing, outside of the poisonous embrace of profit-centred entertainment and the narrow confines of the law. My kind of place. Nevertheless, I was lurching perilously close to come down. I needed to get some drugs and fast before I crashed and the place became a loud and filthy nightmare. I spotted Thomas chatting to a couple of guys whose band were playing later. I wandered over, ignoring the way the band guys were blatantly checking me out, and got straight down to business.

"J'ai besoin de quelque-chose," I said to Thomas. "Y'a quelqu'un de solide ici ce soir?"

"Ooh, French girl," said the shorter of the band guys excitedly. "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?"

I didn't even dignify that with an answer. Thomas looked back at me with amusement and aplology.

"Je parie que tu ne l'as jamais entendue avant celle là," he said.

"Non, c'est si rafraîchissant et irrésistiblement drôle," I said. "Je vais devoir le baiser immédiatement."

Thomas laughed, and then looked up spotting something over my shoulder.

"On dirait que ta chance s'améliore," (looks like your luck is improving) he said.

I turned round, hoping to spot one of the dealers we knew. Instead I got an eyeful of Cook, laughing and chatting with a couple of girls. Immediately my stomach lurched again, and my eyes flashed around the room for Katie. There was no sign of her, and an uncharacteristic glimmer of optimism ran through me. Maybe he had heeded my warning after all. Either way, he was now my nearest available source of drugs, and that was what really mattered now. I kissed Thomas on both cheeks and headed over.

"Hey you don't wanna go with him, darling," I heard the band guy calling over my shoulder. "He'll fucking put it anywhere."

The insult was enough to make my temper flare again, but I didn't even know who I was angry at. At him for insulting my friend? At him for insulting me for having slept with Cook? For insulting Katie for possibly having slept with Cook? At Cook for having slept with Katie? At Katie for turning me into this useless emotional idiot? At myself for letting her? By the time I reached Cook and the girls, I was so confused and riled up I ignored any attempt at politeness, simply grabbing him by the arm roughly by the arm and dragging him away from them. He had looked up angrily when I first grabbed him, but the instant he had recognised it was me his anger had evaporated. And in that instant, even before the emotion in his eyes had been replaced by anything else, I knew. He had fucked her.

I felt cold. It was impossible because it was fucking baking in here, mais je ressentais un froid comme celui qu'on dit que l'on ressent quand on s'apprête à mourrir. The confusion and the rage had dissipated to be replaced by… nothing. I couldn't feel anything at all.

"Got any drugs?" I asked the boy in front of me, event though I knew it was a rhetorical question. Unlike mine, Cook's eyes were a cocktail of emotion, the biggest one seeming to be relief that I was not tearing him to pieces.

"What's your poison?" he said, putting his Cook bravura mask back into place.

"Everything," I said calmly.

"Never do things by halves, eh?" he smiled. "That's my Effy."

He stuck his hands into both of his pockets.

"Coke on the left side, MDMA to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you," he sang, producing a different bag of powder from each pocket.

I snatched them both and took a dab of mandy before stuffing the packets into my bra. I was looking around for a drink to wash the disgusting taste of the mandy from my mouth, when I heard Cook's text alert go off. He pulled out his phone, and his face burst out into a spontaneous affectionate grin. Acting on pure impulse, I snatched the phone out of his hand. Of course it was a text from Katie.

"Thanks for last night, Babes. I'm just about compos mentis again. So where's the party, stud?"

And all at once the coldness changed to searing painful heat. I screamed and threw his phone against the wall.

"What the fuck, Eff?" he said in alarm.

"You fucking know what the fucking fuck," I yelled, and punched him in the stomach as hard as I could.

Of course, I didn't have the strength to really hurt him, but he still looked winded and shocked. Not that I blamed him. This was the second time I had lashed out him like this.

"Effy, calm down," pleaded Cook. "It's not like that."

"Oh, isn't it, _stud_?" I said sarcastically.

"Yeah ok, we had sex," he admitted causing me to physically flinch. "But it's not going to be a thing."

"So you just fucked her for the hell of it?" I challenged. "You knew how I felt about it, and you went ahead and did it anyway."

"I told ya, it wasn't like that," protested Cook.

"Well why don't you tell me what the fuck it was like then," I spat angrily at him.

"When I saw you looking at me like that, I knew I couldn't go through with it," he sighed. "And I told her as much. But she needed someone, and the someone she wanted wasn't there for her. And it's _Katie_. And I'm just a man Effy. It's hard to say no when she comes on to you like that."

"So it was all Katie?" I said bitterly.

"It was the heat of the moment," he said earnestly. "She's a beautiful woman, but it was never going to be a goer, not really, and you know why."

I wanted to hate him, but he was Cook, and he was one of my boys. But still this lingering bitterness would not relinquish its grip on me.

"So was she good?" I asked, like some stupid jealous housewife.

Cook looked at me with disappointment in his eyes.

"We're not seriously going to go down that road, are we Eff?" he said. "If you don't want her, then you have to let her go."

He was right, but I couldn't fucking admit it.

"Whatever," I shrugged, and backed away into the night.

Time passed. Narcotics were consumed, and cognitive thought processes were shut down and ignored. I built an artificial wall around my heart, and lost myself in the grimy bass and the pretty lights. C'était un chemin familier, un chemin que j'avais parcouru maintes fois. Before long I neither knew nor cared who I was or what I was doing. I had a primary objective and it was driving my every move. Get wasted, and then get more wasted. I had given up on being careful and going to the toilets to do lines, merely lurking in the shadows and racking out on the tops of speakers or whatever surface was most handily available. I felt that familiar lurching in my heart as the drugs increased their grip on my brain and body that any sensible person would have taken as a sign to slow down. But I was not a sensible person, and the intervals between lines kept getting shorter and shorter. I had my bag in my hand and was just about to shake some out onto my library card, when I felt the gentlest of touches on my forearm.

"Hey you," came her honey laced voice. "How are you doing?"

She was beautiful, she was always beautiful, but in my accelerated state she was simply breathtaking. Comme si elle avait été envoyée par un dieu cruel pour me punir de mes péchés avec ses charmes. I knew I didn't deserve her, but I couldn't resist her.

"Katie, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Cook called me," she replied.

"Fucking Cook," I swore, as everything I'd been trying to blot out came crashing back into my memory. "Fucking fuck de chier."

"Keep your vagina on," said Katie, laughing at my fucked up mess of an attempt at bilingual swearing. "He called me cause he was worried about you. Said if he tried to help you, you'd cut his fucking balls off, so I said I'd like to see her try that shit with me."

Despite myself I laughed at her confidence. Katie had bigger balls than most of the men I knew. But I was still annoyed at Cook for going running to her.

"I don't need help," I stated defiantly.

"No?" she said sceptically. "He said you were getting munted on your own, that Freddie…"

"I don't need a fucking babysitter," I spat angrily, resenting her for dragging him into this at all.

"OK," she continued unfazed. "How about a dancing partner?"

I laughed again. Katie always had a way of turning things around.

"Sure I could use one of those,' I said. "I'll just have another line and then we can hit the floor."

But before my addled brain could catch up, she had niftily taken the bag from my fingers, and held it out of my reach.

"Give that back," I demanded.

"Nope," she smirked at me, shoving the bag into her bra.

"Don't think I won't go down there," I threatened, staring at her tempting cleavage.

Katie's eyes flashed with mischief.

"I don't think you need any more," she said.

"Don't tell me what I need," I retorted angrily. "I've already got one social worker. His name's Freddie."

"Why do you take drugs, Effy?" said Katie teasingly. "To get high, right?"

I rolled my eyes at her.

"So, why are you wasting them lurking in corners just taking more and more and not giving yourself the full advantage of the effect?" she said. "You're taking the drug for the sake of taking the drug, and you've reached a saturation point when it's not going to get any better. You need to pump it through your system. You need to feel it."

I stared back at her confused. I was so used to getting lectures, I simply hadn't expected encouragement.

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand.

I took it willingly, mesmerised by the calm smiling figure in front of me. I followed her without question, even when she bypassed the dancefloor and led us out of the club. The sky was starting to grow lighter, and I could sense it was going to be a beautiful day.

"Where are we going?" I asked her, as we wandered down the street still hand in hand.

"Does it matter?" she smiled back at me cheekily.

"I suppose not," I replied once I had given the matter what was passing for thought in my scrambled, helpless brain.

"Oh and Effy…" she said teasingly. "Run."

"What?" I blinked in confusion.

"RUN!" she said, slapping me on the arse, before pelting off down the street at an impressively rapid pace. If they ever held a high-heeled Olympics, where competitors had to accomplish complex tasks in the most unsuitable footwear, then Katie would be Team GB's best hope for gold. I spent a couple of seconds just marvelling at her ability to conquer her chosen art form, before I realised she was leaving me behind, and I chased after her without a second thought.

She led me on a twisting turning route through the early morning streets and by the time I caught up with her, we had made it all the way down to the canal. To be fair, I think she had finally taken pity on my gasping cigarette-weakened lungs. I don't think I would ever have caught her if she hadn't wanted me to. But when we finally came to a halt under a bridge, I found myself clinging onto some railings and laughing with delight in between my gasps.

"So how do you feel now, Miss Columbia?" she asked me, rubbing my back.

"Pretty fucking wonderful," I managed to splutter out.

And it was true. The chemicals I'd been forcing into my system had been released to their greatest effect. It was a completely different high, and one that was much more joyful. Le sang courait dans mes veines, et avec venait une euphorie délicieuse. I felt a strange and unfamiliar sensation wash over me, and realised I was actually having fun.

"Told you you didn't need any more," laughed Katie. "You just needed to use what you'd got."

I loved the way she didn't censure me. She knew I was getting stupidly wasted beyond the point of all sense, but she found a way to draw me out of it without disapproving of me. I couldn't help but note the contrast between her cheeky taunting and the weight of Freddie's disapproval, and he was not coming out favourably in the comparison.

"Fuck you're beautiful," I said, the drugs washing away any thought of self-censorship. Katie took it in her stride.

"And you're the cocaine love bunny," she smiled. "I'm not taking anything you say seriously.

I collapsed into another fit of giggles. So this was recreational drug use? I had to admit, it was rather fucking nice. When I looked up, Katie's tantalising brown eyes had devils in them.

"Something's put you in a good mood," I said, and then remembered what it was. "Getting laid seems to work well for you."

Katie's eyes flashed with concern, before she realised it wasn't an attack.

"So he told you then?" she said tentatively.

"He didn't have to," I replied.

"Don't be too hard on him," she told me. "I kind of forced him into it."

"When you've known Cook as long as I have the idea of him having to be forced to have sex with a beautiful woman is fucking hilarious," I smiled.

"Yeah well I didn't have to try too hard." she said smugly, before relenting. "But it's not going to happen again."

"Why not?" I asked despite myself. "You guys looked pretty good together."

Katie looked deep into my eyes, trying to gauge what I was feeling, and how to play the fact that she knew I had been staring at the pair of them in the club.

"Nah, he's a pussy," she said, going with humour. "I think he's scared of you."

"And you're not?" I asked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

Katie's dismissive snort of laughter was the most wonderful sound I've ever heard. It was the sound that unlocked the door to the tiny windowless room that I'd been keeping Old Effy in. Of course she wasn't afraid. Katie n'aurait jamais peur de moi. Freddie lived in constant fear of who I was, and I realised what a heavy toll his expectations of disaster were having on our relationship. But Katie was a titan, and I realised I was going to have to step up my game if I was to have any chance of being an equal to her.

"What's to be scared of?" she laughed. "I can outrun you, I can beat you in a fight, and despite your best efforts I am completely capable of resisting your charms."

I don't know if she meant it as a challenge, but I decided to take it as one.

"Are you sure about that?" I said before pushing her roughly back against the wall.

And it was enough. Enough to forget I had ever made a promise to a boy. The good girlfriend had been cast aside, and in her place stood Effy Stonem, former champion of desire. I pinned her to the wall and kissed her passionately, pressing the entire length of my body against hers. It only took a moment for me to feel the thrill of her capitulation. She opened her mouth to me and started kissing me back with equal passion. I pushed my thigh in between hers and started grinding against her, desire rattling through my body like a crocodile rolling its prey. There would be no escaping from the jaws of this lust as I felt Katie beginning to yield. I couldn't pretend any more. I was going to take her right here up against this wall with the first light of the sunrise glinting across the water of the canal. I was going to take her for all the times I hadn't allowed myself in the past. Katie was what I needed now, and by God I was going to satisfy that need. I heard the beautiful sound of her moaning, and I moved my hands towards her perfect breasts.

But before I could reach my destination I felt an unexpected and unwelcome pressure on my chest. I tried to ignore it and to kiss her even harder, but the pressure increased, forcing its way into my consciousness. It was Katie, her hand in between my tits. She was pushing me away. There was a moment's struggle before the animal in me gave way to its human companion, and I let her force me away from her. Ses prochains mots faillirent me briser le coeur.

"No Effy," she said breathlessly.

We stared at each other, our chests heaving and our eyes as dark as the farthest reaches of space. I was still leaning into her hand and she was actively having to keep me away. I could see she was struggling to regain her composure, but that was the last thing I wanted her to do. I placed my hands on the wall either side of her head. I was reminded of the terrible things I had thought when I had seen her with Cook, but still I couldn't bring myself to release the sexual pressure. I knew she could probably kick my ass if she wanted to, so I was willing to push my luck.

"You want me," I stated.

"Of course I do," she admitted. "You know I do. There's nothing I want more than to let you fuck me up against this wall and completely give in to the pleasure."

"So?" I said, leaning in and trying to kiss her again.

"No," she said firmly, keeping me at bay. "Not like this. I'm not going to be your mistress."

"Putain," I said, spinning away from her.

She was right. She was way to good to put up with this kind of crap from me. Once again I was seized by a maelstrom of emotions that were too strong for me. I started smacking my fist into the wall in frustration. Why was this so fucking difficult? And where was all this rage coming from? I felt Katie's strong arms grabbing me from behind, pinning my own to my sides.

"Stop it Effy," she demanded, and I started shaking in her grasp. "It's ok. It's going to be ok."

"How is it going to be ok?" I asked. "You're no fucking good for me."

"How'd you work that one out?" she said calmly.

"Things were ok before you turned up," I said. "I could keep it under control. I didn't have all these fucking feelings. Freddie, he…."

"What about him?" said Katie, releasing her grip on me.

"He keeps me steady," I replied.

"He stifles you," retorted Katie.

I turned to face her.

"I need it," I replied. "When everything's calm, I can keep the darkness away."

It was the first time I'd admitted to Katie the dark cloud that hovered as a constant threat over my head.

"What? By making you keep everything about you suppressed until you're wound so tight, you have to vent the pressure cooker?" she said scornfully. "Cause I can see that's really working for you. You better be careful, babes, cause otherwise the whole fucking thing's going to blow up in your face one day."

She reached up and gently stroked my cheek.

"I'm not just saying this because I want to get into your pants," she said softly. "I'm saying this as a friend, but I think it's Freddie who's no good for you. I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," I said. "This is me happy."

"C'est ça que tu se dis quand tu es éveillée dans la nuit?" she said.

In that moment all of the fight went out of me. This woman seemed to be able to see right into me, and her use of my native tongue made me want to melt into her arms and let her comfort me.

"I don't know what to do," I said helplessly.

"Have you talked to anyone about it?" Katie asked me.

"About what?"

"About your condition?" she said.

"My _what_?"

"Fuck, you don't even know," she said sympathetically.

She took my hand and led me out of the shadow of the bridge into the sunshine, and sat us down on a bank of grass.

"Effy," she said, her brown eyes staring into mine with infinite kindness. "I think you get depressed."

"What have I got to be depressed about?" I blinked at her.

"It doesn't work like that," she said. "And you know it. You make fabulous work, and have great friends and a boyfriend that loves you, but it doesn't stop it does it? This feeling that haunts you?"

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I worked in fashion," she laughed. "I've seen enough high functioning people with borderline mental illness to last me a lifetime, and I also know that there are better ways of dealing with it. I think you should go and see someone."

Her words shivered through me. Ever since I'd gotten so fucked up as a teenager I had known that there was something that wasn't quite right about me, but I had been too scared to ever give it a name. I was scared of what they would do to me if they knew. But Katie had managed to discover it all by herself. The relief of finally having someone who understood was almost overwhelming, but I was still worried about the reaction of the outside world.

"I don't want to get put on drugs," I frowned.

"And what do you think you were doing last night?" she laughed. "Can you honestly tell me you were having fun before I showed up?"

"No," I admitted. "It's never really been about having fun, no matter what I told myself."

"Anyway," she said. "It doesn't necessarily have to be about drugs. There are other ways of managing it, but you'll never know unless you ask for help. And even if you do, you still get to make the choice. You're not a freak, Eff. This happens to millions of people. I'll be there to make sure no one fucks you over."

"They wouldn't dare," I smiled.

For the first time in several days I was reminded that Katie wasn't just a stunningly beautiful girl I wanted to go to bed with, she was a compassionate, perceptive and intelligent woman, and one hell of a fucking friend.

"I'm not going to hassle you about it, babes," she said. "You're fucking amazing and brilliant, and you've got so much to offer. Just think about it, yeah? I'll respect whatever decision you make. Like I said, I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think that's possible?" I asked her.

"Of course it is," she said, squeezing my hand. "And we can start right now. Tell me about something beautiful."

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, feeling the sun's rays on my face. I tried not to force it. I tried to empty my mind and let my brain throw up something genuine. Son visage m'apparut comme un rappel immédiat que ma vie contenait quelque-chose de pur et de beau.

"My brother Tony," I said, with a heartfelt smile nearly splitting my face in two. "He's beautiful."

"Tell me about him," said Katie.

.

.

.

la francais…

1. Jusqu'alors, la jalousie n'était que quelque-chose que j'avais lu, pas vécu.

Until that moment, jealousy was just a thing I'd read about in books.

2. Je souffrais. J'étais furieuse. Devenais violente. - I was hurting. I was furious. I felt violent.

3. Je ne pouvais pas aller leur parler avec cette violence dans mon coeur.

I couldn't go and talk to them with this violence in my heart.

4. "Et moi je pense que tu ne devrais pas être un tel fouineur pompeux."

"And I don't think you should be such a pompous controlling twat,"

5. "J'ai besoin de quelque-chose," I said to Thomas. "Y'a quelqu'un de solide ici ce soir?"

"I need something," I said to Thomas. "Is there anybody reliable in tonight?"

6. "Je parie que tu ne l'as jamais entendue avant celle là,"

"Bet you've never heard that before," he said.

7. "Non, c'est si rafraîchissant et irrésistiblement drôle," "je vais devoir le baiser immédiatement."

"No, it's so startlingly original and funny," I said. "I may have to fuck him immediately."

8. "On dirait que ta chance s'améliore," he said.

"Looks like you might be in luck,"

9. mais je ressentais un froid comme celui qu'on dit que l'on ressent quand on s'apprête à mourrir.

but I felt cold the way they say that people feel cold before they die.

10. C'était un chemin familier, un chemin que j'avais parcouru maintes fois.

It was a familiar road, and one that I had walked so many times before.

11. Comme si elle avait été envoyée par un dieu cruel pour me punir de mes péchés avec ses charmes.

Like she'd been sent down by some particularly vengeful god to torture me for my sins with her loveliness.

12. Le sang courait dans mes veines, et avec venait une euphorie délicieuse. The blood was pumping through my veins, and with it came a beautiful feeling of euphoria.

13. Katie n'aurait jamais peur de moi.

Katie would never be afraid of me.

14. Ses prochains mots faillirent me briser le coeur.

The next words she uttered nearly broke my heart.

15. "C'est ça que tu se dis quand tu es éveillée dans la nuit?"

Is that what you tell yourself when you're lying awake at night

16. Son visage m'apparut comme un rappel immédiat que ma vie contenait quelque-chose de pur et de beau.

The minute I pictured his face I knew that there was something brilliantly and truthfully beautiful in my life.


	15. A Blurring Of The Lines

**Hypes gets days off. Peoples get updates. Enjoy x**

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15. A Blurring Of The Lines

Katie

I woke up in a field. A field! Ok, so this circumstance was mitigated by waking up with my limbs wrapped round Effy, but still… a _field_, for fuck's sake. I blinked and propped myself up on one elbow, trying to orientate myself, but it was fucking useless. I didn't have a clue where I was or even what time of day it was. How come I always ended up waking up somewhere dubious when I was with Effy? Oh yeah, that would be the stupid amounts of drugs and the fact that once I had her to myself I could never bear to let her go, no matter where the night would take us. I gazed down at her beautiful face, still blissfully crashed out despite the fact that the sun was high in the sky and pouring its welcome rays down upon us. It was hardly a surprise. The poor thing hadn't slept for two days, launching herself into a massive bender because of me and Cook. Except that this wasn't just about me and Cook, or her and me, or her even and Freddie. Outside of our exciting love quadrangle Effy held a secret bigger and darker than all of us.

It was a thing I'd seen a hundred times in fashion, highly strung creatives hanging on by a thread. In a way it seemed to be the curse of genius. That's why it was left to people like me to run their lives for them. But Effy was the opposite to most of the people I'd met before. Instead of attention seeking, she tried to hide her troubles away behind her air of mystery and her stoicism. She didn't want the world to see her weakness, so she buried it in an attempt to live a normal life. Except Effy was far from normal, she was much more magical than that. And her attempting to deny it was damaging her.

At first I believed that she and Freddie were in love. That he was a good man and a stabilising influence, and there was no way I was going to interfere with that despite my obvious desire. But now the lines were becoming blurred. Whilst I was still confident that his motivations were pure, I was seriously questioning his methods. And although I didn't doubt that Effy loved him in a way, much like she loved all of her boys, I knew she wasn't really in love with him. He didn't make her happy, he just fended off the darkness, and this cycle of suppression and explosion was ultimately destructive. For the first time I was beginning to think that I wanted to take her away from him, and it was seriously fucking with my concepts of right and wrong. It had taken everything I had to push her away from me last night. Kissing her had felt so instinctive and so right. I hadn't felt so helplessly turned on since…

But it was remembering Anna, and the unbelievable pain I had experienced when I caught her with Anton that brought me to my senses. I couldn't be that person. Though I had no qualms about smacking someone around the head when they deserved it, that was a different kind of pain. That kind of pain you could recover from. But the other kind… it still fucking hurt to think of it, and I couldn't inflict that on another human being. Not even Freddie. Not even for _her_.

I sat up properly and just watched her sleeping for a while. Creepy, I know, but she looked so peaceful now compared to the traumatised mess I had found her in. I remembered the way her face had lit up when she had started to talk about Tony.

"Tell me about him," I had asked her.

"He was a complete cock," she said, though the sparkle in her eyes belied the validity of her words. "At least he used to be. He was cocky and manipulative. He had girlfriends, but he was always screwing around behind their backs. He had no qualms about fucking people over to get what he wanted, and he was all about looking after number one."

"Sounds charming," I said.

"Except with me," she continued. "He loved me. He would have done anything for me. It was me and him against the world. He was the only person that really understood me. My parents certainly never did. But yeah, he was a bit of a bastard for a while."

"Something changed?" I said, sensing that this was not the whole story.

"He was out in Mexico in his gap year," replied Effy. "Typical Western Jack the Lad whoring his way round the globe."

All of a sudden she shivered, despite the increasing warmth of the morning sun.

"He got caught up in a massive earthquake," she said.

"Oh God, was he alright?"

"Miraculously, he got out without a scratch, but hundreds of others didn't. There was massive devastation all around him. He said it was like seeing the country he had been travelling in for the first time. It wasn't just his playground. It was a real place, with real people and they needed help. He didn't take the easy way out. He started working with the local men, digging people out with his bare hands. He pulled a child out of the rubble. He held the hand of a dying woman who was trapped. Even when the army came, he refused to be shipped out with the other westerners and stayed to help any way he could, helping the relief workers setting up shelters and distributing food. Still working on the digging until time ran out."

"Fuck," I said, somewhat uselessly given the enormity of his experience.

"He came back a different man," said Effy. "Much more humble. He immediately changed his degree so he could study seismology. Got himself into training so he could join a pro rescue team. And now he works all over the world in earthquake research, and he's on emergency call with one of the top international rescue teams. He has a beautiful wife that he met in Japan, and basically he's just a fucking hero."

Effy's eyes shone with pride.

"I just wish I saw him more," she said sadly.

"I'm sure he still loves you," I said soothingly. "Even if he's far away."

"Of course he does," replied Effy. "Except now I have to share him with the world. It's ironic that the thing that made him into a better man, meant that I lost him in another way. He got so focussed that he didn't have the same kind of time for me, and I discovered I was kind of lost without him. I think that's part of the reason I nearly fucking lost it as a teenager. I'd lost my rock, and my boys were just as mixed up, young and crazy as I was. I gave her hell for it at the time, but thank fuck my mum split up from my dad and dragged me back to France.

"So do you get on with your mum now?" I asked.

"Yeah," laughed Effy warmly. "She's kinda special."

"What does she do?" I asked intrigued.

Any woman responsible for creating Effy Stonem had to be pretty fucking extraordinary.

"She builds bridges," replied Effy.

"What, like some kind of marriage guidance counsellor thing?"

"Fuck no," laughed Effy. "She'd be like the worst person at that ever. No, she actually builds bridges. She's an architect. I mean she does buildings and stuff as well, but bridges are her thing. Have you heard of the Chevalier Group?"

Of course I had. That company had been responsible for iconic new buildings in most of the European cities I had worked in, and it was on a fashion shoot on a stunning Chevalier bridge in St Petersburg that I had first met Anna.

"Wow," I said, genuinely impressed, "She works for them?"

"She _is_ them," announced Effy. "My mother is Anthea Chevalier. She dropped the Stonem part when she got divorced."

"Fuck, she's like _really_ famous," I said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," shrugged Effy. "So my mother's a world renowned creative genius and my brother's a hero. Tough act to follow for a fucked up kid with depression."

"But what you do is incredible," I insisted.

Now that I had her smiling I didn't want her hitting another downward spiral.

"You really think so?" she asked with complete sincerity.

"I know so," I said, squeezing her hand. "I think you were born to do it."

"I knew it too," she said, looking more peaceful than I had ever seen her. Her mask was down, and she was stunning. She gazed out over the canal, her eyes misting over with reminiscence as she spoke.

"It was instant. Like a bullet to the heart. I was at the opening ceremony for one of my mum's bridges across a gorge in Germany. It was a fucking beautiful structure, still one of my favourites with its graceful pattern of slender silver wires suspending the bed high above the river below. I was in the VIP viewing area, necking down the free champagne and ignoring the pompous speeches, when the crowd suddenly hushed and music began to play. People rushed out onto the terrace where I'd been smoking, and all of a sudden the sky came alive with light."

She turned and locked eyes with me, grasping both my hands and whispering in the hushed tones of a conspirator.

"It was wonderful, Katie. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The way they used the architecture of the bridge, enhancing and elaborating my mum's design. And the way the bursts were timed perfectly to the music. The fleeting explosions of colour that had your eyes searching greedily for more. It had a precision that appealed to me, but it was wonderfully emotional too. It took me out of myself, made me forget to be so guarded. It allowed me to feel, and I knew, even before the display ended, that I had found my calling. It had been Groupe TLC of course, no-one else had been that sophisticated at the time. So I practically stalked them until they let me become an apprentice. I'm not kidding myself that being Anthea's daughter didn't help me get a foot in the door, But once I was there, I hoped I'd get by on merit."

"Of course you did," I assured her. "You're really talented."

"At first I thought it would be enough just to be part of it, you know?" she said. "But I seemed to have a gift. Thierry himself noticed me and took me under his wing, but the more I learnt about the material, the more I began seeing pictures in my head. Pictures of how I would do it. Pictures of how I could make the night sky mine. I could hardly listen to a piece of music without mentally designing a show to go with it. Sometimes I miss it. The massive gigs, the stadiums, the bridges, the big city spectaculars. But I had to break out on my own. To prove myself. It's why I came back to England too, to get away from Thierry's shadow."

"Not for love then?" I smirked.

"I'd say it was a kind of love, wouldn't you?" replied Effy.

"Your true love," I whispered softly.

"Is that shallow?" she asked me.

"No," I shook my head slowly. "Quite the opposite in fact. It should be you firing from those stadiums and bridges, babes."

"Maybe one day," she shrugged.

This was Effy. This was the woman I'd seen glimpses of before she fired. This was the woman I had met at the Old Library. Uncaged and free from her affliction, she was passionate, beautiful, talented and generous. And I was completely in love with her. In years to come would I trace it back to this moment? The moment she opened up to me in the rising dawn down by the canal? Or was the truth that I had fallen in love with her on that very first wild night, our subsequent friendship only confirming what I already knew in my heart? Or was it all the way back in Paris, when her presence had stolen its way into my consciousness in the midst of all the chaos?

Either way, the lines were getting seriously fucking blurred, and I was no longer sure what was the honourable thing to do. To respect her relationship, but leave her with a man I didn't believe was right for her? Or to try to make her leave him so I could look after her? I struggled to discover any solution except for the immediate one that Effy herself had resorted to on so many occasions. I reached down into my bra and recovered her stash of coke.

"So," I said cheekily. "How about that line then?"

.

.

.

And then I woke up in a fucking field. I might have been confused and disorientated, but I was still enchanted.

"What the fuck do you do to me?" I asked in wonder.

It was said out into the ether, but it was enough for Effy's eyelids to start flickering open.

"Hey you," she said with pure affection, even though she was barely focussing. "How are you?"

"We're in a field, Effy," I said, still put out by the indignity of it all.

"Sweet," she murmured, a smile gracing her gorgeous lips.

"It is not sweet, Eff," I complained. "Katie Fucking Fitch does not sleep in fields!"

I froze, suddenly realising the depth of my mistake. I could not afford for my secret to come out now. Not when I had finally gotten her to open up to me.

"You what?" she mumbled, still struggling into consciousness.

"I said, Katie Fucking Bitch does not sleep in fields," I repeated forcefully, hoping my new emphasis would distract her from the truth. "This is a fucking Prada dress. If there are any grass stains on it somebody will have to die."

"You're not a bitch," replied Effy sweetly. "You're lovely."

I swear I could hear the sound of my own heart imploding. Effy was gazing up at me adoringly. Fuck, why wasn't she my lover? Why wasn't this my life? I'd wake up in a sodding field every day just to have her look up at me like that. I wanted so badly for her to be my girlfriend. For it to be alright for me to lean down and kiss her in the sunshine. Resisting the urge to do just that was nearly killing me. Instead I snapped my mask back into place.

"Where the fuck are we anyway?" I said grumpily.

Effy was still smiling as she pulled herself to sitting. She let her eyes travel slowly over our surroundings before breaking out into a gentle laughter.

"We're about two fields away from home," she said, clearly amused by the situation. "We must have walked all the way back along the canal and then cut through."

"And then decided to sleep here?" I huffed. "Instead of two fields away where there are beds, and showers, and food?"

"Don't be so grumpy, Katie," she smiled. "It's perfect. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. And I have you all to myself. It's peaceful. It's paradise."

And all of a sudden it became all too clear why we had fallen into each other's arms in the middle of nowhere. Back at the barn real life would have interfered again, and we would have had to separate for the sake of appearances. And neither of us had wanted that. Once again we had created a bubble for ourselves where our true feelings did not have to be censored. And once again I had found the girl I only caught glimpses of back in our unfortunate reality.

"For the record…" I said, gazing deeply into her mesmerising eyes.

"What?" she said, smirking at me, expecting some Bitch Katie homily.

"_This_ is you happy," I said.

Effy closed her eyes and let her head fall backwards. A gentle breeze flitted across the meadow as I feasted on her sun-drenched features. When she opened them again, I was greeted with an honesty I was sure only Tony and maybe Anthea had been fortunate enough to witness before.

"Thank you," she said.

"What for?"

"For rescuing me," she replied softly.

"So you admit you needed rescuing?"

"Yeah, I did," she confessed, lying back down on the grass. "And I'm sorry I got so jealous and fucking stupid."

I lay down on my side facing her and our hands found each other easily, like they had those nights we had shared in my tent. For minutes we did nothing but stare into each other's eyes as the birds continued to chirp away around us and a random dog barked in the distance.

"It's not getting any easier, is it?" I said eventually.

"No," she admitted. "I thought if we stuck it out, it would go away, you know? That things would get back to normal."

"I've tried to move on, Effy. Honestly I have. I've been out with half a dozen blokes since I met you, but none of them have even properly turned me on apart from Cook."

"Maybe you should give him a second chance," said Effy somewhat nobly.

"Thanks for trying," I laughed. "But it would never work. You're too deep into both of us."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's ok," I said, squeezing her hand. "I'm kinda flattered by how much you hate the idea of me and him together."

"I don't want to hate it," she said earnestly.

"But you do," I replied. "And we're just going to have to live with that."

"I'm such a cunt," said Effy angrily.

"You're not a cunt," I said, reaching up to stroke her face. "You're lovely. And that's my problem. Can't find a bloke as lovely as you.'

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong place,' suggested Effy.

"And where do you suggest I look?" I challenged her.

"Maybe you should be looking for a woman,' she shrugged.

"I don't know, Eff," I replied. "I've only ever fallen for two girls. I'm not really gay. Not like Emily is.'

"Who's Emily?" she asked, and I realised how little of each other's lives we had shared until now.

"She's my sister," I replied.

"What's she like?"

"She's lovely," I smiled, reminding myself to go and visit her soon. "She's a filmmaker. And gay. Very gay."

"Ok, let's try a different tack," grinned Effy. "Find out your ideal type. So out of all your lovers, which ones have you felt the strongest bond with?"

"Anna," I said without any hesitation. "Um… and you…"

"So gay enough then," smirked Effy. "I return to my original theory."

"Maybe you're right," I conceded, not believing for a second I could find a woman as beautiful as her. "Maybe the way out of this is for me to get swept off my feet by some gorgeous hottie.'

"You know I'd hate her, right?" said Effy.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," I smiled.

We stayed like that for as long as we could manage, just lying next to each other in the field, drinking each other in and not even caring if anyone's Prada dress got mud on it, before thirst and hunger drove us out of our paradise. I didn't hang around the barn, calling a taxi as soon as I could to get away from Freddie's awful gratitude that I had returned Effy to him in one piece. It was horrible to watch her closing back in on herself as her defence mechanisms locked back into place. I had to get out of there before I was compelled to kidnap her and run off to South America or some such place. I didn't hang around at home either, stopping only to shower and throw a few clothes in a bag before jumping into my car and heading off down the M4. There was only one person I could go to when my head was as messed up as this. I needed my little sis.

.

.

.

I didn't bother knocking when I had gotten to the flat. I'd called Emily, but it had gone straight to voice mail. She was probably on a shoot, and Naomi was no doubt off somewhere being professionally gorgeous as usual. I'd never not had a key to Emily's places, and she had kept the tradition when she had moved in with the fabulous Ms. Diamond. It was our way of saying that we'd always be there for each other no matter how far apart we ended up living, and I felt perfectly comfortable about marching into her house unannounced.

"Ems," I called softly once I had closed the door, but there was no reply. I could hear music coming from the living room, and decided to head on in.

"Hey babes, it's me," I said, poking my head into the room.

"Well, come on in then gorgeous," said a sultry voice from behind a big swivel armchair with its back turned towards me. "I've got a surprise for you."

And with that the chair spun round to reveal Naomi splayed across its width in an extremely sexually provocative position, wearing nothing but a deliciously fine set of deep burgundy designer underwear.

"Good surprise," I blinked at the astonishing sight before me. My sister was one hell of a lucky bitch.

"Fuck," said Naomi, leaping out of the chair when she realised she was about to try to seduce the wrong twin. "I thought you were, Ems."

"Yeah, I get that," I smirked. "Unless that's the way you greet all of your house guests."

"I didn't know you were coming," replied a flustered Naomi.

"Spur of the moment," I shrugged, coming fully into the room.

Naomi made no attempt to cover up. Let's face it, she had been photographed enough that way, and it wasn't as if her body was anything to be ashamed about. I found myself staring, but it wasn't at my sister's girlfriend.

"Is that the new Mitsayashi autumn collection?" I said enviously.

"Good spot," replied Naomi. "I did the Harper's shoot for him, and came away with the spoils. I was gonna, you know, surprise Emily."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," I grinned. "I'm fucking jealous though. That collection doesn't hit the shops for another three months. Not that I could afford it on pyro wages."

"Well, I'm kind of in with him now," said Naomi. "What's your size? I'll see what I can do."

"Really?" I said excitedly.

I would kill to get my hands on a set of Mitsayashis, and I bet they would send Effy into meltdown.

"Do you mind if I…?" I said approaching the blonde.

"Be my guest," replied Naomi, allowing me to inspect the finely crafted fabric.

"Well that's not a sight a girl comes home to every day," my sister's husky voice rang out behind me just as I appeared to be effecting a close inspection of her girlfriend's tits.

"Fuck! Shit!" said Naomi, springing away from me as if I was on fire. "It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like Katie was admiring your fabulous new Mitsayashi autumn collection lingerie," smirked Emily. "Are you trying to tell me you're having an affair instead?"

"Funny, Emily," I scoffed sarcastically. "Very funny."

"I know," shrugged Emily. "But she just looks so cute when she's flustered."

"She does at that," I laughed, seeing the normally ice cool blonde blushing furiously.

"Relax Naoms," said Emily. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Katie's only ever going to be interested in your clothes."

"Actually Ems, I did come here for your advice on matters involving the female form," I said.

"Tell me more," she said, raising an eyebrow.

No point beating about the bush.

"I need you to find me a woman," I said bluntly.

"For what purposes?" she asked.

"For sexual lesbian shagging purposes," I replied, causing Naomi to have some kind of coughing fit. "I need to get over Effy, and blokes just aren't cutting it."

"The hot pyro chick?" quizzed Naomi.

"Oh my God, have you shagged her?" said Emily.

"No, but I really, really want to," I admitted. "And it's not going away. I need to find some other hot girl to take my mind off her."

"In that case you're in luck," said Naomi. "We're going to a party."

The party seemed to be some kind of London power lesbian shindig. On the way over there I had spilled my guts to Ems in the taxi. I hadn't really minded that Naomi had been there as well, she had almost become a part of the family by now, and her and Emily seemed rock solid, and sickeningly in love. Emily had assured me that the party would be 'brimming with totty', and to be fair she wasn't wrong. I followed her and Naomi as they did the rounds, watching as people gushed and fawned over them. It seemed strange that my shy, hard-working and artistic little sister had suddenly become one half of a celebrity power couple, but surprisingly I didn't envy her one bit. I watched as she soaked up the attention I would once have craved, and found that it did nothing for me. I cast my eyes around the room as we walked, and yes there were a number of glamorous and beautiful women there all dolled up to the nines in expensive outfits. I tried to be open to potential, I did, but they all washed over me like so much superficially attractive eye-candy. The more champagne I consumed, the more I found myself day-dreaming about a mud-splattered Effy in her firing suit, an image I found infinitely more sexy. I was a fucking lost cause.

"So," said Emily after an hour or so. "Have you spotted anyone you like?"

"No," I sighed wearily. "I just can't stop thinking about her."

"Jesus girl, you're whipped," laughed Naomi.

"Um… pot, kettle, black, much?" I retorted.

"Oh, I totally admit it," she replied. "Emily's got me by the nuts."

"Come on you," said Emily grabbing me by the hand and dragging us over to a table with a good view of the dancefloor. "We need to be more proactive. Naoms and I will help."

We spent the next ten minutes watching the crowd, with Emily and Naomi pointing out all of the fit girls that they knew, and they knew a lot of fit girls. Some of them sounded really nice too, but the whole thing was an exercise in pointlessness. None of them were Effy.

"What about Natasha?" said Emily pointing out a tall elegant woman with black hair and hazel eyes. "She's a theatre director. Very smart, very cultured. Gets invited to lots of swanky openings and premieres. Well travelled."

I stared blankly at the woman, who I'm quite sure would have made someone a lovely girlfriend, but my heart remained heavy and black, with no spark to bring it back to life.

"It's no use," I sighed heavily. "They're all very pretty and that, but they just don't make me _feel_ anything. Nothing at all, no spark, not even a mild whimpering of lust."

"I'm so sorry, Katie," replied Emily, her kind brown eyes searching my own. "But I think you're kinda fucked."

"Great, that's just great," I said, putting my head in my hands. I was getting fucked off with this party and I just wanted to go home.

"If this Effy means so much to you, maybe you should fight for her," said Emily.

"Um…" said Naomi nervously. "There might be another solution."

"What?" I said urgently.

I'd take the chance at anything to drag me out of this confusion.

"Ok, so it's a bit of an off the wall suggestion, and I don't want you to bite my head off for it," replied Naomi cautiously. "But I was on a shoot with a someone last week, who's both drop dead gorgeous, and fucking crazy about you."

"Who?" I asked intrigued.

It wasn't inconceivable that someone from fashion had harboured a secret crush on me.

"Anna Markova," said Naomi.

"Naoms," growled Emily protectively. She had been the one who had had to pick up the shattered pieces of me after all.

"Hear me out," said Naomi. "You said you wanted someone who could make you feel, right? And we all know that Anna does that for you."

"She fucking cheated on her, Naomi," said Emily indignantly.

"Yeah, and she's still in fucking bits about it," replied her girlfriend.

"She's what?" I said incredulously.

"She was all over me the minute she recognised me," said Naomi. "She was desperate to hear about you, to find out if I'd seen you. She dragged me out to drink vodka."

"Yeah, she does that," I smiled, despite myself.

"Told me she and I had the same heart," continued Naomi. "That both of us had been captured by the power of a Fitch girl, and that there was no escape. She said that you had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. That she had been an idiot. That she was miserable without you. That she desperately wanted to win you back. She's still in love with you, Katie. She's always been in love with you."

"Then why the fuck was she fucking Anton De Vasco?" I spat "If she was so in love with me then why was she career fucking a famous photographer?"

"It was a mistake, Katie," insisted Naomi. "She was lonely. She said she missed you. She told me it was the biggest mistake of her life, and she would do anything to take it back or to make it up to you."

"Then why didn't she talk to me?" I grumbled.

"You can be a little scary, you know," said Naomi.

"But she fucking slept with someone else. I found them at it. It hurt _so_ much."

"People fuck up, Katie" she said softly. "They get scared. They get insecure."

"Oh really, Naomi 'Voice of Reason' Campbell," I said haughtily, taunting the blonde with her long forgotten real name. "Kindly tell me what Anna Markova has to be insecure about. She's one of the most beautiful women on the fucking planet. What she did was wrong. Would you cheat on Ems?"

"I might," said Naomi quietly.

"WHAT?" I said furiously, winding up to give her a beating, before feeling Emily's restraining hand on my arm.

"I love her," continued Naomi, gazing soppily at my sister. "I love her so much, it's terrifying. I keep thinking what happens when she gets more famous, and she goes to Hollywood, and she meets all these fancy young actresses who'll do anything to get cast in her film? I keep thinking, what if she stops loving me? What if she doesn't need me anymore? What if she leaves me? The way I feel about her now, I think I'd just die. And it scares the fucking life out of me, feeling like that about someone. It's like being a prisoner, and it makes you want to rebel. Not because she's done anything wrong, but she's so fucking perfect, and I'm just a useless fuckhead, and any day now she's going to realise it and find someone better. And you start to wonder if you should just push it, if you should just fuck it up now because it's going to happen anyway. Because you're scared, and because you're weak."

"I'm not going to leave you," said Emily urgently. "I fucking adore you."

"It's not logical," said Naomi. "It doesn't make any sense. But it's still there, the fear. And love and fear make idiots out of us all."

"I love you," said Emily, going to her girlfriend and wrapping her in her arms.

"Just don't ever forget it, yeah?" said Naomi, the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

As I watched the lovers kiss and make up, I began to contemplate the fact that even though Naomi Diamond was one of the most beautiful, successful and desirable women in the world, a woman who's life was envied and craved by countless other women across the globe, she was still just as insecure as the girl next door when it came to love. I had assumed that Anna was cynically fucking Anton for a boost up the career ladder, but what if it had been for all the reasons Naomi had just described? What if it had just been a stupid immature mistake? What if she had just been scared?

"What would you do if she did cheat on you, Ems?" I asked.

"I don't think there's any one answer," she replied. "Nothing's black and white and I guess it would depend on the circumstances, but in truth? I'd probably forgive her. I love her too much to let a random shag come between us. And who's to say I wouldn't be the one having those feelings and making those mistakes? At the end of the day we're only human."

I downed the rest of my glass of champagne and grabbed another one from a passing waitress with a tray. It had little effect. The thought that Naomi had planted in my head was a sobering one. If Anna was still as in love with me as she claimed, could I forgive her? After all, I wasn't exactly so squeaky clean myself these days, having kissed another man's woman, and idly plotted how I could steal her away from him. I really had loved Anna with all my heart, and if anyone could pull my focus away from Effy, it would be her. My beautiful, crazy, magnificent Russian. Ridiculous sexual flashbacks started ricocheting round my brain. I couldn't work it out. I couldn't even think anymore, the straight down the line morality that had been my rock for so long was crumbling beneath my own touch. When even Naomi and Emily, the perfect couple with their perfect fucking love were admitting their doubts and fears to each other, who could really tell which way the future lay between this blurring of the lines?


	16. Anna

**For my lovely SJ. Here's your next chapter, and I hope it brings you entertainment where you can lose yourself in a different world.**

**For the rest of you my girl SJ, is still working very hard to try to get better, but it ain't easy, so why don't you all give her a smile and wave, and possibly a little shout out in a review to help share a little sunshine.**

**I have to give a little shout out to A Different Katie, for her most fabulously enthusiastic review. And no I don't write professionally, but I do get to do fireworks and circus and theatre so I'm fine…**

**So this is the kind of stuff I have floating round in my head as backstory to help me develop the characters and where they are now. And seeing as it was already in my brain, and you all seem quite fascinated by her, here's a little bit of Anna…**

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16. Anna

Katie

Anna Konstaninovna Markova, daughter of a tram driver and a psychiatric nurse, never wanted to be a supermodel. She wanted to be a dancer, but such lofty artistic ambitions were not met with much approval within Anna's family, and at the age of sixteen she ran away from home in order to pursue her dream. Unfortunately for Anna, she was good, but not quite good enough, and she was forced to look for other work as she attempted unsuccessfully to get herself enrolled in a dance school. At this point she was still a cheerfully optimistic young woman and had not yet developed the haughty ice-cool persona she would affect in her later career. Although she was yet to mature into the stunning beauty she would become, her good looks and bubbly demeanour allowed her to get casual promotional work on exhibitions and events, and it was at one such event when she was seventeen that she was to have the chance encounter that would change her destiny.

She found herself working on a stall at a photography trade fair in the Lenexpo exhibitions halls in the city. Also there to give a talk at one of the symposiums was Heike Osterhagen, the renowned German fashion photographer. Taking a stroll around the exhibition stands, Heike came across the young Anna, and was immediately taken with the girl. Though attractive young women were ten to the dozen in Heike's profession there was something about the Russian with her dark auburn hair and her compelling hazel eyes that drew the photographer in. She returned later that day and invited Anna to take part in a live shoot that would form part of her lecture. Although she had never modelled before, Anna's dancer's body awareness and performance energy proved the hit of the day, eclipsing the professional models that had been hired for the event. She seemed to have an innate ability to work with the camera, and Heike grew ever more enchanted. That evening the two of them went out for a drink, and by the end of the night, after an impressive amount of vodka had been consumed, Heike had invited Anna over to Berlin for a weekend, so that they could do a proper shoot in her studio. Anna, thinking some decent photographs might help her dance career, and feeling unthreatened because Heike was a woman, accepted the offer.

What Anna didn't know, was that Heike was a lesbian with quite the reputation for sleeping with her models. But the two of them worked fabulously together, and by the time the inevitable seduction came, she was sufficiently fascinated by the older woman to be happy enough to give it a try. She was surprised to discover that far from feeling strange and unnatural, sex with another woman fulfilled and excited her. Anna never went home from Berlin, and for the next two years she became Heike's lover and her muse. Even though half of the industry dismissed her as just Heike's latest bit of fluff, there were others who recognised her potential, and she was starting to forge the beginnings of an independent career. Her devotion to Heike had convinced her to abandon any thoughts of continuing in dance, and to stay in the fashion world to be nearer her lover. Unfortunately the photographer was a serial skirt chaser, and eventually grew bored of the relationship, dumping the poor girl for an eighteen-year-old Italian.

This was where Anna got her second lucky break. She had recently signed up to an agency where her handler was a young man called Pieter who was at the beginning of his career. He rescued her from the worst of her post-break up excesses, and persuaded her that the best revenge was to very publically show Heike that she didn't need her. Together, they re-modelled and re-promoted her image, channelling all her rage at her betrayal into presenting her as the gloriously sexy badass that now dominates magazines and billboards worldwide. Armed with this new ammunition and with Pieter's careful guidance her career exploded. She graced the cover of every magazine, and all the top designer's started clamouring for her to wear their clothes. Within a year Anna's earnings and status within the industry had completely eclipsed that of her former lover.

The first time I encountered Anna was back in St Petersburg at a photoshoot on what I now knew to be Effy's mums's bridge. Even to the untrained eye it was a stunning piece of architecture, with gleaming white towers and cables arcing ambitiously up into the sky. I was working for a company that location scouted, set up and ran photoshoots all over Europe, and the bulk of my work was logistics and liaison. Most of the models had arrived the night before, where I had settled them into their hotels and given them their schedules. But due to previous commitments, Anna was arriving that day and was due to meet us directly at the bridge. I didn't even need to look up to know that she had arrived, the excited chatter that erupted all around me told me that. Even people who earned their living in the business got a little giddy in the presence of a superstar. I glanced up from my clipboard to witness the approaching diva. She walked with the extreme confidence of someone who knows that her every movement is being scrutinised both with wonder and with jealously, but she was smiling and drinking in the adoration of those around her. It was quite an entrance. Time to put a stop to that.

Intelligently she sought me straight out, somehow being able to discern that I was the person most likely to know what was going on.

"So where do you want me?" she asked, in English but with a heavily accented Russian tone. Already there was a hint of flirtatiousness in it, as though she was used to her beauty getting her what she wanted. I continued flicking through my lists and itineraries.

"And you are?" I said casually.

Of course I knew who she was. She was one of the most famous women in fashion. I made it my business to always know everything about everyone who was working on one of our shoots, models, technicians and photographers alike. But it was a little trick of mine to make sure nobody got too big for their boots on my watch. And it worked as well, cause usually underneath those massive egos lurked a whole forest of insecurities. The talent might think they are God's gift to fashion, but on my sites there was only one woman in charge. I stared her in the eye, looking for the flinch, that little shiver that told me I had set the alarm bells ringing in her fortress of self-belief, but there wasn't one. If anything, her smile grew wider.

"I'm a very lucky woman," she said. "My name is Anna Konstantinovna Markova, and I'm not too stupid to remember where I came from."

She looked around her, as if breathing in the city.

"But for one chance encounter," she said. "I'd still be here, working my butt off in low-paid jobs whilst I watched my dreams die slowly. And you are?"

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I had to admit she had me floored. Most of the people I encountered in my working life weren't even close to being that self-aware. In the light of my failure to answer her, Anna took it upon herself to complete the question.

"Beautiful," she said.

"Excuse me?" I said, finally finding my voice.

"You are beautiful," she repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Um, thanks," I said uncertainly. Fuck, I was the one supposed to be unnerving her, not the other way round. This was not going to plan. Fortunately her manager Pieter showed up to save the day.

"Good morning," he said politely. "Could you tell me where I might find Katie Fitch?"

"That would be me," I smiled, grateful for the distraction.

"Katie Fitch," repeated Anna, rolling my name around her tongue as if it were fine wine. "I like it."

Throughout the rest of the day, I began to realise that the fearsome reputation that had preceded the Russian supermodel was nothing but a fabrication. Ours was a world where rumours flew more quickly than a military jet, where back biting and jealously ruled supreme. And everyone was jealous of Anna. I had grown used to the reality behind the airbrushed images, but even without the assistance of Photoshop, Anna was truly stunning. And as soon as she was in front of the camera she became electrifying. There are reasons why some people rise above the crowd in their field, and Anna was one of those people. Whatever the mystery x-factor was, she had it in fucking spades. Our photographer David was grinning his stupid little face of every time she stepped in front of his lens. He knew his problem would not be trying to find a good shot of her, but trying to find which ones to discard. But there was more than that. Every time she wasn't working I could feel her gaze upon me. Whenever I could work up the balls to look back, I caught her grinning unashamedly. She had beaten me at my own game, and I respected her for that.

It was a long and tiring day of being on the ball and sorting out everyone's shit, but the shoot had gone pretty smoothly, and I was just wandering down the hotel corridor, wondering if I should slip down to the bar for a quiet drink, or just go back to my room and crash, when I bumped into Davy, one of our lighting guys. He persuaded me, much against my better judgement to come out with him and some of the other techies. I liked hanging out with crew, their down to earth ways were a welcome relief from the high drama of the clients, but what I hadn't expected to see amongst the gaggle of boys congregating on the pavement outside the hotel was Anna, dressed down casually in jeans and a vest top, leaning against a car smoking a cigarette.

"Katie Fitch," she said, her eyes lighting up with mischief as soon as she saw me. "Now we can get party started."

"I didn't expect to find you here" I said, as we waited for our taxis to show up.

"Why not?" she asked me. "It's normal."

"Anna's going to show us the sights," smirked Davy.

"I'd like to see some of Anna's sights," whispered one of the boys behind us, thinking he was out of earshot.

"Show some fucking manners," I said, rounding on him and smacking him round the head. "She's right here, you know."

"Watch out boys," laughed Anna. "I have tiny fiery bodyguard."

"You'll be safe then," said Davy. "Nobody messes with Katie Fitch."

Anna took us to some crazy local bar, where she bought the first round. And the next, and the next. I soon discovered it was something she did on a regular basis, taking out the crew from her jobs and getting them drunk on vodka. It was another little quirk of hers that showed that she realised just how privileged she was, although removed from the fawning of others, you quickly began to forget that she was famous at all. A couple of hours later and we were all grinning and giggling like idiots, and it reminded me of some of the crazy nights out I used to have with my friends back home. Anna took us to a succession of bars, each one seedier than the last, and the increasing amount of alcohol in our bloodstreams, made some of the guys a little bolder.

"So do you have a boyfriend, Anna?" asked one of the guys who had been driving the massive Russian ex-military trucks we had rolled onto the bridge for the shoot.

"No, boyfriend," said Anna assuredly.

"What about a girlfriend then?" asked Davy.

It was an open secret in the industry that the model swung both ways.

"No girlfriend either," declared Anna.

"Yeah, well don't get excited boys," I snorted at the sudden round of excited puppy dog faces that surrounded the table. "None of you stand a fucking chance."

"She's right," smirked Anna. "Only Katie Fitch can come in my pants."

I spluttered so violently that the vodka I was sipping went right up my nose. In the moments I was trying to recover I was greeted with a chorus of jeers, wolf-whistles and shouts of 'get in there, Katie', from the lads. Anna was beaming, obviously pleased with the results all round. I had tried to get one over on her, and she had exacted the perfect revenge. I made a fast exit to the ladies to recover what was left of my dignity. Anna had totally played me, but for some reason I couldn't be angry with her. I decided to lose the challenge graciously and on my return to the bar, I bought the next round. It wasn't until we were back at the hotel in the lift, that she decided to stir it up again.

"Alone at last," she purred as the last two lads got out at their floor.

"Seriously Anna, you won. There's no need to milk it," I smiled.

"Milk?" she frowned in confusion. "What is this milk?"

"The shoot's over, and we're alone," I explained. "I admit defeat. You don't need to play me any more."

"I don't want to play, Katie Fitch," she said calmly. "I want to make love with you."

"See, that's what I… oh…"

I ground to a halt mid-sentence as the realisation sunk in. She was serious. She was actually fucking serious. Holy fuck on a bicycle. Anna Markova wanted to shag me. She stared at me intently, and I thought of all the thousands of people who would give their right arm to be where I was now.

"You can't be serious," I stuttered.

"Why not?" she said insouciantly. "You are very beautiful woman. You are clever and fiery and efficient and tough. I have strong desire for you from moment I saw you."

"Ok, well I'm very flattered, thank you," I said cautiously. "But I'm not gay."

"I don't mind," shrugged Anna. "I think about kissing you all day."

The lift stopped at her floor, but she made no attempt to get out.

"Come to my room, Katie Fitch," she said.

"Um… no." I insisted.

"Why not?" she repeated undeterred. "I have many skills. I will give you majestic orgasm."

The door closed and the lift continued its ascent, but I was still saddled with a horny Russian.

"Much as though a majestic orgasm does sound lovely," I said. "I am not going to sleep with you Anna."

I was grateful for the ping that announced our arrival on my floor. And I sidestepped her and escaped the moment the doors were open.

"Like I said, I'm flattered," I said turning back towards her. "But it's not going to happen.

She shrugged. She didn't even look disappointed.

"Then I am going to have to woo you," she smiled as the doors closed on her.

She wasn't fucking joking either. Anna's wooing of me began the very next day, when I was woken up by a knock on the door. I answered it to find one of the hotel's staff presenting me with a most beautiful bouquet of flowers, the like of which would have had me swooning had I not known exactly who they had come from. It didn't stop when I left Russia either. Suddenly she seemed to be fucking everywhere. At all the same parties. And repeatedly cropping up on shoots that we had organised. Every time I saw her, she would be wearing that cheeky fucking smile, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she would try to get me into bed. She seemed to treat the enterprise as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and as if I was the crazy one for resisting her efforts. There was a glorious innocence about the way she dismissed all of my excuses.

"I'm not into girls."

"You don't have to be into girls. You just have to be into me"

"I don't fancy you."

"Why not? Everyone else does."

"I'm not looking for a relationship, right now."

"Then we can just have sex."

"I'm looking for something more serious."

"Then we can be together."

"Anna, I just like cock."

"I can get strap-on," she shrugged.

For the next four months she chased me across half of Europe, and I was convinced that the increasing frequency of our meetings was nothing to do with coincidence. I started giving in to some of her requests to take me out just to shut her up, and I was treated to dinner in the most fabulous restaurants, and nights at the most exclusive clubs for my pains. When she wasn't trying to fuck me, she turned out to be excellent company. She was sharp, witty and intelligent and had a wicked sense of humour and a healthy cynicism for the excesses of our trade. I laughed a lot when I was with Anna, and even her repeated attempts at seduction became more amusing than irritating. Nevertheless, I was quite glad of a break from it all, when I went back home to Bristol for a week to celebrate my mum's birthday. Emily was the first Fitch I saw when I rocked up at Mum and Dad's, and she immediately flung herself into my arms.

"How are you doing big sis," she said. "Jetsetting treating you well?"

"Not so bad," I said squeezing her back.

Despite all the excitement of my travels, it always felt special to be reunited with my twin.

"Fancy a glass of wine?" she asked me.

"Starting a little early, aren't we?" I replied.

"Hell no," she laughed. "We've got a Fitch Family dinner to get through, remember?"

"Good point," I said, and followed her through to the kitchen.

"So," she said, once we were suitably refreshed. "Anything exciting going on?"

"I have a stalker," I told her.

"Oh God, are you alright?" said Emily, concerned sibling written on her brow.

"I'm fine," I laughed. "She might looked pretty fierce, but underneath it all she's harmless, even if she won't stop trying to charm her way into my pants."

"Whoah. Hold on there. Rewind," said Emily. "SHE? You have a female stalker?"

"I do," I said, laughing at the way my sister's interest had perked up exponentially at the revelation.

"What's she like?" she asked me.

"Rich, successful, fit and gorgeous," I smirked. This was going to be fun.

"What's she look like?" asked Emily, even more intrigued. I could hear the little lezzer cogs in her little lezzer brain whirring furiously. I reached into my bag for the copy of Elle I had bought for the flight over, where I just happened to know that Anna had a six page spread.

"She looks like this," I said, handing over the magazine.

I watched Emily's eyes pop out on stalks.

"No dribbling on my magazine now," I smirked at her.

"Seriously, Katie?" she said. "A woman who looks like Anna Markova wants to go to bed with you?"

My sister may be some kind of alternative art wanky idealist on the face of it, but she is such a fucking sucker for a pretty girl. I was so going to enjoy this.

"No Emsy," I said smugly. "_Anna Markova_ wants to go to bed with me."

You could almost hear the clang as her jaw hit the floor. Even if I didn't want her, the idea that I could pull a fitter girl than Emily was endlessly amusing to me.

"And you're saying no why?" drooled Emily helplessly.

"I'm not gay, remember?" I laughed.

"Then go gay immediately, you fool," she said "It's Anna Fucking Markova."

The pair of us collapsed in giggles over our wine. It was Emily who recovered first.

"Unless…" she said with an evil glint in her eye.

I knew exactly what she was thinking, and an unpleasant knot started forming in my stomach. In hindsight it was easy to identify it as jealousy, but at the time I couldn't work out why the idea of palming my stalker off onto my more than willing sister would make me so uncomfortable. It should have been the ideal solution. I would still get to keep Anna as a friend, my sister would get to shag one of the most beautiful women in the world, and Anna would get to sleep with a carbon copy of me who, judging by the sounds I had unwillingly heard emanating from her bedroom door on many an occasion, was no stranger to the majestic orgasm. But even then, an unconscious thought started forming in my brain that I had to keep Anna as far away as possible from Emily. It was on the trip back to out offices in London that I finally admitted to myself that I was a little turned on by the idea that someone so famous and as fabulously gorgeous as Anna was so into me, regardless of her gender. When I walked through the door to the offices my heart sank as I saw my boss Damien sporting the special smile he only wore when he was about to tell me something he knew I wouldn't like.

"I'm pulling you off the DeGrassi shoot," he said apologetically.

"Why?" I questioned.

"I need you to come with me to Bulgaria," he replied. "Felipe asked for you personally. It seems you're getting quite the reputation."

"Don't try and sugar coat it, Dames," I said. "Either way I'm swopping a week in the Canary Islands for four days up a fucking mountain in Bulgaria"

"It's the Vogue Winter Cover," insisted Damian. "It is a big deal."

"I know," I pouted. "But I've already been shopping for the Canaries."

Bless him, Damian was happily married with two kids, but even he was not immune to a Katie Fitch pout.

"Why don't you take the afternoon off," he suggested. "Go buy yourself some nice designer ski wear on expenses."

Result. I might have to go and hang out in some uncivilised former communist hell hole without proper amenities, but I sure as hell was going to look fucking fabulous when I did it.

It was two days later when my assistant Sarah handed me the list of personnel for the shoot. I had been shopping and basking in the fact that I had been headhunted for one of the most prestigious shoots of the year, but when I looked down at the names on the paper, I realised that all was not what it seemed. The official request for my services might have come through the photographer, but one look at the model rosta revealed the heavy hand of Markovian manipulation. Anna had a fuck of a lot of clout, and friends in some very high places, and it was no surprise at all to see her name jumping out at me from the schedule.

"Fucking Anna," I hissed under my breath.

"Who's fucking Anna?" asked Julian, from across the floor.

"Katie, if she plays her cards right," laughed Toby from the desk next to him. Yes, Anna's little obsession had become the office joke, and I had to maintain the upper hand.

"Trust me boys, I wouldn't have to play any cards at all, I'd just have to show up," I said seductively. "But it's just not my thing.'

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, not even once," said Toby, in a voice that told me he thought about it constantly, probably with a box of tissues to hand.

"No," I lied.

The journey to the remote Bulgarian ski resort was fairly arduous even by our well-travelled standards. Damian and I arrived a couple of days before everyone else, just to make sure everything was in place. Which was hard, cause even though our translator was enthusiastic, she wasn't exactly used to the demands of high fashion. Admittedly the place was fucking stunning, with breathtaking views wherever you looked, but at the end of the day, snow was fucking snow wasn't it? And I failed to see the reason why we couldn't have done the whole fucking thing in France. But mine was not to reason why. If the creatives wanted Bulgaria, then Bulgaria it would be. It was on the day that the models were due to arrive that I noticed Damian taking a phone call with a shifty look on his face. When he finished he looked over at me with that stupid special smile on his face.

"Out with it," I said. "What was all that about?"

"Um, one of the model's manager's mother has been taken ill, so he won't be coming with her," he said sheepishly. "I'm assigning you to special liaison for her. Sarah can taking over general duties for you."

"One of the models?" I said sceptically, knowing instantly who it was. "Jesus, if she was any more transparent, she would have to be made of glass."

"Don't make a fuss, Katie," he pleaded. "You know how important this job is for us. It's only for a couple of days."

"Fine," I replied placatingly, but I would be having words with Ms Markova when she got here.

Of course Anna was all smiles when she arrived.

"Katie Fitch," she grinned enthusiastically. "How lovely to be working with you again."

"Cut the bullshit, Anna," I replied. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with Pieter's mother is there? He's probably in Italy right now, shagging his boyfriend as we speak."

"So I wanted to see you," she shrugged, abandoning the pretence. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," I said grudgingly. "But lying to my boss because you want to get me naked probably puts you on the borderline."

"Well I am supposed to be badass, you know?" she said, completely unrepentantly.

"Oh come on," I scoffed. "We both know that that whole badass persona is a sham."

"Busted," she said, and grinned her cheeky grin at me again.

I could never quite work out why I let her get away with it. Why I continued to hang out with her, and why I didn't just report her for sexual harassment at work and get her off my back. But the purity and even innocence of her persistent repetition of her desires had somehow gotten under my skin, and I felt a little shiver run down my spine when I saw her look at me like that again. Thinking about it, she and Cook affected a remarkable similar approach. A refusal never once dented their enthusiasm for the task, and they continued their assault regardless, brimming with childlike charm. Somehow I managed to let Anna persuade me to go out to dinner with her that night, telling myself it was just to keep Damian happy, and that once the shoot got going tomorrow we'd all be too busy for our little drama. Anna managed to behave herself during the meal, and I actually had quite a pleasant evening with her. So much so that I didn't resist when she dragged me into a bar for a nightcap. That said, I was relieved when we bumped into a bunch of the crew there, and Anna started on her customary vodka party early. That way I could slip away, leaving her with the others and the inevitable question of sex could be avoided for another night.

It was all good fun until I noticed that Anna seemed to be drinking even faster than usual. My professional brain kicked in. I knew from experience that she could handle her drink, but we only had a two day schedule and I didn't want the star of the show turning up hungover on the first day. Question was how to handle it? I knew if I challenged her directly, she would just rebel and probably end up drinking even more. I sighed inwardly, there was only one thing for it. Though I was no supermodel, I had enough weapons of my own that I could use to manipulate men, and one delightfully obsessed Russian girl.

"I'm feeling a little tired," I said, leaning over towards her, and putting my hand on her arm. "Do you think you could walk me home?"

Anna stood up immediately, and far too quickly and she was forced to grab onto one of our catering team's shoulder to steady herself.

"Fuck. Headrush," she laughed as she pulled herself to standing. "Come one then, Katie Fitch. Let's get you home to your bed."

It had been a warm day, and the top layer of snow that had melted had now refrozen into a treacherous layer of ice. We hadn't taken two steps out of the door before she slipped and grabbed at my hand to stop herself going flying.

"Careful Anna," I said automatically using my strength to keep her steady. "We don't want you breaking your leg or something."

"Nonsense," she said dismissively, unusually not taking the opportunity to keep her hand in mine. "I am Russian. I can handle little ice."

"If you say so," I shrugged.

We were staying in chalets that were a little further down the mountainside, and I decided to take Anna at her word and concentrate in getting myself down there in one piece. It was tricky, but manageable, but unfortunately Anna wasn't having as much luck. She tottered unsteadily for about five metres before she lost her footing again and landed on her arse. She unleashed a set of incomprehensible words that I could only guess were some sort of Russian swearing, and tried to get up, but the task was clearly beyond her.

"Fuck's sake Anna, are you shitfaced?" I shouted, running to her side and trying to help her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

I was taken aback by her dismissal, but I decided to hit back in typical Katie Fitch fashion.

"Well there must be something wrong with you," I said sarcastically. "You're usually gagging for me to touch you."

"Don't," she said, suddenly quiet.

"Don't what?"

"Don't yell at me, Katie. I can't stand it."

I had never seen her drunk like this before, or seeming this unhappy. I was a little stunned by her unprecedented show of vulnerability, and I attempted to cover it with humour.

"You usually like it when I yell at you," I said. "You say it turns you on."

"It does," replied Anna, rising to her knees and facing me. "That's why I can't stand it."

She reached one hand out towards me and gently stroked my hair.

"I'm in love with you Katie Fitch, and it's driving me crazy," she said. "Every time I see you I want you more, but it's not just about fucking you any more. That's why I get so drunk tonight. To stop my heart from exploding. But it doesn't work. I have the spell of you on me. I cannot escape."

I felt the ripples going through my body as if they were real. Shivers that I could no longer attribute to the cold. Lust I could cope with, after all I'd been dealing with it since I was a teenager. But Anna loved me, and it suddenly scared the hell out of me. Because I believed her. It had been easy to dismiss her when I had thought she just wanted me to be her latest little sex toy, but her eyes were burning into me, showing me that that was the lie. The truth was that someone who I respected and admired, who's company I loved, and who made me laugh, somebody who treated me wonderfully but could call me out on my bullshit, somebody who stimulated and inspired me, well… that somebody loved me, and was it really a question of anatomy any more? I was shaking from the sudden onrush of emotions, but it was all too much to handle, and I bottled it.

"Come on," I said, dragging Anna to her feet. "We can't stay here all night, we'll fucking freeze to death."

I wanted to get home. I wanted to shut the chalet door behind me. I wanted to bury myself beneath a mountain of covers and not come out again until this confusing bombardment of feelings had gone away. But we still had a treacherous mountain road to negotiate, and Anna's balance showed no signs of improving.

"At least let me help you down the track," I said, attempting to put my arm round her waist.

She tried to shrug me off, but it only made her lose control again, and the next instant she was grabbing at me, trying to stay upright. But I was already off-balance from her pushing me away, and the pair of us went down together, Anna landing heavily on her back with me collapsing on top of her. But that wasn't the end of it. We had somehow hit an extra icy patch and began sliding down the hill.

"Stop us, stop us," I screamed as we began to accelerate.

"I can't," she cried, flailing her limbs uselessly against the ground.

I looked up to see if there was anything we could grab to stop our momentum, but it was hopeless. We were spinning down the middle of the street like some kind of demented human toboggan and there was fuck all we could do about it. Anna seemed to catch on to the absurdity of the situation and she suddenly burst out laughing. It was a glorious release, not just from the immediate peril of our situation, but also from all the tension she had been holding inside since her arrival. She looked even more beautiful than ever and the devil rose up in my brain. If I truly was hurtling towards my doom, it would seem a shame to die having never kissed a girl. I leaned down and took her lips with mine. I was amazed at how wonderfully soft they felt, at the way her lipstick tasted on my tongue, but mostly by the fact that I couldn't tear myself away from her. I kept on kissing her, pushing my tongue into her mouth and feeling the consequences burning through my body. Suddenly our death slide had transformed itself into a timeless wonderland, where this delicious kissing was all that ever mattered.

We eventually slid to a halt by slamming into the side of someone's shed, but even that didn't distract us from our liplock. Anna wrapped her hands into my hair as if she was afraid I would make a sudden break for freedom, but I had no such intentions. Kissing never felt quite like this before, and I wanted to undertake a thorough investigation. The only thing that stopped me was the rising heat within my insulated clothing. Both of us were wrapped up and protected against the harsh winter cold, and I felt a sudden need for flesh. I looked down into her somewhat shell-shocked hazel eyes, and I could feel her start to panic. I kissed her briefly again to calm the storm.

"Take me home, Anna Markova," I whispered in her ear.

She caught her breath as she realised I wasn't talking about my home.

"Yes?" she questioned, not quite able to believe her luck.

"Yes," I assured her, not quite able to believe mine.

Anna's sobriety returned with a vengeance, and she practically leapt to her feet, offering her hand to pull me up.

"I will make you feel beautiful," she promised, and led the way back to her chalet.

By God, she wasn't lying. That girl could do things with her tongue, I hadn't even dreamed were possible before that night. And it turned out her offer of majestic orgasms was no false promise either. The way she felt when she was fucking me was sensational and by the fifth time she had made me come, I couldn't believe I had wasted so much of my time whining about cock. Not that it was all one-way traffic mind. I became fascinated by learning the way her body worked and the things I could do to her that had her crying out in pleasure. I failed spectacularly in my mission to deliver her in a fit state for work tomorrow, and we pretty much fucked all night. I couldn't even remember going to sleep, but we must have collapsed into each other's arms at some point, because I woke up in a most glorious tangle of limbs.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself, as my brain started flashbacking furiously the second it had dragged itself back to consciousness. Any lingering doubts I may have had as to the nature of the encounter were dismissed as soon as Anna's eyelids fluttered open.

"Morning beautiful," she said, her sleepy eyes brimming with lazy morning desire, and before I knew it I was immersed in high quality kissage once more. She rolled on top of me and pushed her leg between my thighs. I felt myself starting to ache for her, and could feel use slipping inexorably into another round of fucking, when the sound of my phone going off in my bag across the other side of the room brought me harshly to my senses. Jesus, Fuck, what even fucking time was it? Fuck, I hope we weren't fucking late. I clambered out of bed and hurried to retrieve the offending object. Seeing it was Damian, I swiped the call on before even properly registering the time.

"OH MY GOD, KATIE," he said dramatically. "Have you seen what it looks like outside?"

"Yeah," I said, hurriedly rushing over to the window to see what he was on about, only to discover I could barely see anything at all. There was a full on Siberian blizzard raging outside the chalet.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" I said.

Our forecast had promised us sunshine. I felt Anna's arms slip around me from behind as she came to join me at the window.

"I don't know," said Damian, and I could swear he was almost crying. "But I know we're not taking any photographs today. I need you to check in with Anna, make sure she's ok. Keep her entertained. I know it's not want you want to be doing but…"

"It's ok," I assured him. "I'm with Anna now."

"Oh," he replied. "You're brave. I've barely been able to poke my head out of the door. Well then, good luck. And Katie… be nice."

"I'll do my best," I laughed, and shut of the call.

"So I'm guessing we're not shooting today," purred Anna. "Whatever will we do?"

"I'm supposed to entertain you," I said spinning round in her arms and walking her back towards the bed. "He wants me to be nice."

"Do you think you can manage that, Katie Fitch?" smirked Anna.

"It's my job. And I take my work very, very seriously," I said, and shoved her back onto the bed.

The blizzard lasted for another two days, during which I executed the demands of my job with extreme thoroughness, and Anna and I developed an intimacy which both surprised and delighted me. Locked away in our little mountain loveshack, it was easy to forget the outside world and any pressures or demands it might have otherwise heaped upon us. It was glorious and beautiful, and it wasn't until we woke up to the sunshine streaming through our window that Anna's demeanour changed. She was bratty and uncommunicative all throughout the shoot, and started snapping at the hair and make-up girls for no apparent reason. This was the Anna of the whispers and the legends, but it wasn't my Anna, and during the next break I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to one side.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" I asked her sternly. "You know we're behind schedule, so why are you being such a cock about everything?"

"I am not being cock," she pouted.

"Oh, you totally are," I asserted. "You nearly made young Tiffany cry. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're what's wrong with me," she grumbled.

What the fuck have I done?" I said incredulously. "I'm fucking sleeping with you aren't I?"

"Is that all for you?" said a miserable looking Anna. "Experiment sex? Then if shoot goes well, we go home tomorrow and it finishes. I don't want to finish. I don't want it to stop."

I felt an enormous surge of affection for the grumpy-faced Russian, and knew that what I was about to say was what I truly wanted.

"You know, if you're going to be my girlfriend you're going to have to learn to talk to me and stop taking your moods out on other people," I informed her.

"Girlfriend?" she said stunned.

"You told me you loved me, Anna," I said gently. "And that's why I slept with you, not for some lame-arsed experiment. I would never fuck you around like that. It's not going to stop, babes. It's going to be tricky, managing to find time for each other with all our commitments, but it's not going to stop."

"Everyone will know," she warned me. "There will be paparazzi, nosy bastards. There will be no hiding from it. All your friends, your family…"

"I don't mind," I assured her. "I'll be proud to be your girlfriend."

And I was. Anna was a wonderful girlfriend and we had two amazing years together. And yes, it was difficult with the two of us moving around so much, but somehow we always found each other, and found time for each other, and I was happy. I even brought her to meet the family, which didn't go so well due to Jenna's rampant xenophobia, and her conviction that Anna was either going to steal the television or start moving her relatives in. But whatever obstacles life seemed to throw in our path, we somehow managed to glide over them with ease. I suppose things changed when I moved jobs and started taking on the runway shows. They were a lot more complex to organise than the shoots. There were a lot more people involved, and you only got one chance to get it right. I started working longer hours, and it started proving harder to get away. One time Anna turned up on a surprise visit, but I had to stay in a meeting till gone eleven. By the time I got home to the flat, she had crashed out. She had to go the next day, and she yelled at me for not waking her up, but she had looked so cute, I couldn't bear to disturb her.

It wasn't that I didn't love her. I did. I really did. But I was excited by my new job, and I guess I let it take me over a little. At the time I thought she was just getting whiny, after all she had a fairly demanding schedule too, and after the break up I had been too demented with rage to even consider that I might have contributed to her feelings of dissatisfaction. It wasn't until after my talk with Naomi that I had started to even wonder what it had been like for Anna. I realised that as I got more and more involved with my job, it must have seemed to her that she was the one making all the effort. I started to remember conversations, where she had asked me if I still had the same feelings for her. And again, I had dismissed them as obvious. In my mind I had loved her just as much as I always had, but I had begun taking it for granted, and I had forgotten to keep showing it to Anna. It was only because we had scheduled a last minute meeting with a designer in Berlin, that I had decided to pop in and surprise her at all, and that's when I had found her with Anton.

The pain had been so intense, I had severed all ties and never given myself the chance to forgive her. I thought she didn't love me. How could she and do that with someone else? It had all seemed so clear, and so black and white. Anna had done wrong, and I was the justifiably wounded. But ever since I had met Effy, all those beliefs that I had been so sure of had slowly crumbled around me. Had my worldview been so naively simplistic all this time? Was anything ever just black and white? Considering the complexity of the universe and its billions upon billions of possibilities, could the whole spectrum of human emotions be placed so easily within such elementary building blocks? Emily had been a player, and now she had found true love. My brittle morality had been shattered by my desire for a promised woman. And Anna had strayed even though it now appeared she had loved me passionately all the time.

But now she was back. At least the possibility of her was back. I had been so happy with her, and this thing with Effy was powerful, but it was only causing me grief. I was still hesitant. Naomi seemed to have been charmed by Anna and was convinced she was the way forward, whilst Emily was far more cautious. And me, I just didn't fucking know. Could I forgive her? And what would it fucking feel like if I did? Could we really reclaim the happiness we had known before? I know some couples did it. Some people even tolerated full-blown affairs as long as the equilibrium of the unit was maintained. I racked my brain over these matters for the whole of the drive back to Bristol, but when I arrived, I had nothing but a head full of questions. I needed advice. I needed to talk to my best friend. And oh yeah, that was Effy.

Fuck.


	17. A Love Like Blood

**Well hello there. I would like to thank you all for the terrific response I had to the last chapter. It's a tough thing to do in this format to write an original character that will resonate with the readership, but I knew I wanted to give Anna the depth she needed for us to understand why Katie had fallen in love with her. So I'm glad you guys fell in love with her too, I know I have. **

**So here's the next chapter. Me and Froggie had a great old time discussing the interpretations for this one so I hope you enjoy the results.**

**I don't own Skins, but quite frankly I don't care. I'm doing this for love, not money.**

**And speaking of love, I'm sending out more to the very wonderful SJ. As Effy would say 'Bon courage, mon ange."**

**.**

**.**

17. A Love Like Blood

Effy

I was in the living room watching television. Some crappy thing on BBC3. I'm not normally one for television, but today I couldn't really muster the energy for anything else. The past few days had been dark ones, but I was trying not to go down my usual road to oblivion. I had been thinking about the things that Katie had said about depression, and I was coming to the conclusion that she was probably right. I had bundled along like this for so long, I couldn't see what was staring me in the face. That's the kind of stuff that only happens to other people, right? God I missed her. She had been gone for several days, and it made it all the more clear what a beautiful light her friendship had brought into my life. My boys were wonderful, and they cared for me without a doubt, but somewhere along the line we had all come to accept the status quo. That was the great thing about Katie. She was never prepared to settle. She was the one who was always trying to find a solution for our situation, to find ways to make our friendship work. And now she was the one trying to help me find a way out of this self-replicating cycle I had gotten myself into.

Thomas was locked away in his music room working on a new track. Cook and Freddie were downstairs in Cook's den playing some zombie shoot-em-up on the Playstation. And I was alone watching fake tanned idiots chuntering on in some artificial 'reality', whilst I attempted to soothe my troubled brain. I heard the doorbell go, but in my lethargic state I left it to one of the lads to get it. The extent of my attempts to sate my curiosity as to the nature of the caller was to mute the TV with the remote and try to eavesdrop.

"Yeah, she's upstairs," I heard Freddie's voice say. "I think she's sulking."

I'm not sulking, I'm depressed, I thought angrily, suddenly annoyed at Freddie's way of glossing over rather than addressing the issue, as if his papering over of the cracks was enough. It wasn't enough. You're being too harsh on him, I chided myself immediately afterwards. He loves you, and it's not like he _wants_ you to be unhappy. But it's not up to him, is it Effy? You have to sort this out for yourself. I started up a new row of lines on my internal blackboard. La réponse n'est chez personne d'autre, le combat doit venir de toi.

I was so caught up in my own internal debate that I failed to notice when the visitor entered the room.

"Hey you," came the familiar voice that was the first reminder of her presence. "Did you miss me?"

The impact was instantaneous. Powerful. Physical. A fizzing sensation flashed across my skin and I was forced to stretch out the muscles in my limbs just to cope with it. There was a furious but not unpleasant whirling in my stomach, and if she had been able to see my eyes she would have seen the light in them leap into flames. The smile that ripped its way across my face was an unstoppable force. My firing system had been armed and Katie had just pressed go. The darkness had been shattered by an explosive maelstrom of colour. An exuberant feeling of well-being and joy took hold of my lethargic heart and shook it uncompromisingly into life. We have ignition.

Really? Was it that fucking easy to be happy? Just the sound of her fucking voice? Just the knowledge of her existence and the faith that she was here for me? I abandoned the motivational lines on my blackboard and ran straight into her arms.

"I'll take that as a yes then," she giggled as I threw myself around her.

"Fuck yeah," I replied, and buried my face in her shoulder.

We clung to each other wordlessly for what seemed like an age, but words were hardly necessary when we were communicating so much through the embrace. Je me forcerai à être courageuse un autre jour. Today I just wanted to hold my Katie.

"How have you been?" she asked me.

"Not great," I admitted, and it was a relief to have someone who would just let me admit it.

"Well, I'm here now," she soothed. "Just let me know if I can help."

"Just be you," I told her. "You're the fucking best medicine of all."

"You know I'm not the answer, don't you babes," she said softly.

"Yeah, but you're the map," I replied. "You help me find my way."

"Cup of tea?" she suggested.

You have to love the English and their unswerving faith in the humble cup of tea.

"Sure," I said, making a move for the kitchen, but Katie pulled me back.

"I'll make it," she said smiling. "Everyone deserves a little pampering now and again."

Once she was gone I flopped back down onto the sofa in disbelief. My mood had gone from morbid goth conference to fluffy kitten bonanza in the blink of an eye. The figures were still dancing around on my TV screen, something about weddings or some such, but I didn't care. My whole world was sparkling with the arrival of my tiny vibrant saviour. Katie arrived back in the room with the requisite cups of heated beverage just as the programme rolled into credits.

"Oh no, have I missed 'Don't Tell The Bride'?" she said. "I fucking love that."

"I wasn't really watching," I shrugged.

"It's great," she laughed. "The blokes have to organise the whole wedding. It's hilarious. My Mum would have a fit if anyone tried to do that to me. I swear she's been planning my wedding since I was five. I can see her making little amendments in her diary every time I'm with a new person."

I shuddered at the thought.

"All the more reason to stay living in sin," I replied.

"And you know all about sin, don't you Babes," she winked at me.

"Ha, no flirting rule breach," I said triumphantly.

"Ah, busted…" laughed Katie. "You'll have to give me a forfeit."

"You have to come and sit next to me on the sofa and give me platonic cuddles all night," I grinned.

"Stern punishment," she smirked.

She kicked off her heels and sat next to me, curling her legs up underneath her and leaning into my side. I picked up the remote and was just about to start flicking through the channels for something to entertain us, when the announcer introduced the next programme. It was a film, some kind of cheesy romantic shit with Katherine Heigl in it. Normally my reaction would have been to run a hundred miles in the opposite direction, before the urge to slap the silly bitch became too overwhelming, but tonight was a different matter.

"Brilliant," I said, dropping the remote beside me.

"Really?" frowned Katie. "Didn't think this would be your kind of thing."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"Well, you're all cool and shit," replied Katie.

"Astutely observed, Ms. Ford," I told her. "I am indeed all cool and shit, but can you imagine any of the boys coming into disturb us whilst this is on? I want some Katie time."

"Not just cool and shit," laughed Katie. "But an actual evil genius."

My point was proven not ten minutes later when Freddie came in and immediately wrinkled his nose up at the spectacle before him.

"The fuck is this?" he frowned.

"Girlie stuff," I shrugged. "Katie wanted to watch it."

"Yeah well, I think I'll leave you to it ladies," he said with a disapproving headshake, and I knew he wouldn't be back in the room for another two hours. He was barely out of the door before Katie started sniggering.

"Evil. Fucking. Genius," she said, poking me in the ribs on every word.

"Are you looking for a fight?" I smiled, squirming away from her.

"Like you'd stand a chance," she scoffed.

I had no comeback for her. It's always been that way. Where Katie was concerned, I didn't stand a fucking chance.

"So where have you been," I asked, changing tack before things got too flirtatious.

"London," she replied. "I went to see my sister."

"How is she?"

"Good, good," smiled Katie fondly. "She's happy. Stupidly in love."

"With the blonde?" I asked.

"Yeah.." said Katie, looking slightly unnerved by my knowledge. "How did you…?"

"I saw them in Paris, remember?" I smiled, remembering the intensity that had burned between them. Et ça, mesdames et messieurs, c'était l'amour.

"I could see it even then," I continued. "The way they kissed as if nothing else existed for them. I could tell it was a beginning, and not just a passing fancy. That it was going to be something special for them."

"Yeah, and I thought Naomi was just going to be another bitch-assed model who was going to break my sister's heart," laughed Katie.

"So not at all bitter about Anna then," I teased.

"Yeah well, she may have been colouring my judgement on the matter," she sighed. "But you're right about the way they kiss. God, I wish somebody would kiss me like that."

She looked away as her cheeks began to flush. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Somebody _had_ kissed her like that. I had kissed her like that back at the Old Library.

"Katie, I…" I began, but the words dried in my throat. I had meant to tell her I was sorry for leading her on like that, but I couldn't say it. Car en réalité je n'étais pas désolée du tout. Katie turned back to face me, and the connection that always simmered between us suddenly turned up to scorching. Here it comes again, the thumping heart, the sudden rise in body temperature, the inability to form coherent sentences, the narrowing down of my entire world into a pair of deep brown eyes. The urge to kiss her was just as powerful as it had been under the canal bridge, except this time I was stone cold sober. I didn't have time to assess that feeling, as the door opened and Cook came lumbering into the room.

"We're gonna get an Indian," he said, rifling through the drawer where we kept the take away menus. "You ladies wanna join?"

I shrugged absently. Food was the last fucking thing on my mind right now.

"Hmmm," said Katie casually. "Not really hungry right now."

Cook stopped what he was doing, and stared at the two of us still cuddled up on the sofa.

"So when are you going to tell him?" he said.

I could feel Katie tensing in alarm.

"Who him? Tell? What?" she stuttered.

"There's nothing to tell," I said calmly.

"Like hell there's not," countered Cook.

"We're just watching a movie," I replied.

"What, this shit?" he laughed. "Tell me what's happening then."

He had me there. I didn't have a fucking clue.

"Well you know," I said hesitantly. "There's a guy, and some kind of annoying uptight woman, and they all like hate each other and shit…"

"But it's all just a front," piped up Cook. "Cause really they're madly in love."

He looked pointedly between the two of us.

"We haven't slept together," blurted Katie.

I had to smile despite myself. Though she was magnificent and had many admirable and endearing qualities, coolness under fire was not one of them.

"It doesn't matter," said Cook. "Look at you. You might not be shagging, but the two of you are in a relationship. That fucking smile there is proof. I never see her smile that way around her boyfriend."

Katie glanced over at me, and the same affectionate smile that I was wearing shot across her face too. The irresistible force.

"See?" said Cook excitedly. "You've got one too. You don't just want to bone each other. You're fucking crazy about each other."

"Relax Cook," I said, attempting to calm him down. "We're just friends."

"You're not friends," he told us.

"What?" Katie and I replied in unison.

"You're not friends," said Cook. "You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains, children, it's blood - blood screaming inside you to work its will."

I watched Katie's jaw fall open, and she turned to me with an incredulous look.

"Is he quoting Buffy at us?" she said, aghast.

"He's got all seven seasons on box set," I replied. "I think he has a secret man crush on Spike."

"It's a very finely crafted piece of televisual entertainment," he huffed. "The writing alone is…"

'Well thank you for your Buffy-inspired pieces of wisdom Cook, but I think we'll manage," I said scathingly.

"No, you'll _listen_," he said forcefully. "For once in your goddamn life."

It was the sincerity of his words that stopped me in my tracks.

"I love Freds," he continued. "He's like a brother. And I know you love him too, and that you don't want to hurt him. But seriously Eff, it's too fucking late for that. Whatever you think you're stopping, it's already happened. Whatever you think you're in control of, you're not. And I don't know whose morality you think you're living up to, but it's certainly not yours. I know you, and this isn't you, Effy. You're a hunter. You're a lion, not a fucking lamb. You _are_ going to break his heart, but isn't it better to do it now than to carry on pretending? Or to wait until that night when you and Katie can't control yourselves any more? And when that happens, cause it _will_ happen, there will be no going back. Trust me, I know… the two of you together? They'll be getting your brother back over here to investigate the rattling of the earth."

What could I say? He did know me. And every single word he said was true. So I responded with the traditional act of those who have no answer. I ran.

"Fuck this," I said getting off the sofa. "I'm going out. I need some fucking air."

I was halfway to the door, before I turned and looked back at a rather lost looking Katie.

"You coming?" I said.

We remained silent through the first part of our walk. It was as if neither of us knew quite what to say. But that was ok. It was a beautiful summer evening, and the fields around the barn were comforting enough in their tranquility. It wasn't until we were walking through 'our' field that I felt Katie's hand creeping into mine to give it a reassuring squeeze. Words were again unnecessary. I knew that she was telling me that we'd be ok. That we'd work it out, just like we always had done, but I wasn't so sure. Je n'étais simplement pas aussi courageuse qu'elle. Maybe I should just extricate myself from the whole situation until I could work out the messes in my head. Isn't there some cliché that says you can't love anyone properly until you love yourself? Right now, I felt like I was just shitting on both of them.

We came to a natural halt when we reached the canal, and I started to relax a little. Being by the peaceful water felt natural for me and Katie, and I realized I already thought of it as our place, a place where we could talk without being judged by the outside world. But Cook hadn't really been judging us, had he? In his mind he had merely been pointing out facts. Facts that we were going to have to deal with sooner or later. As usual, it was Katie who took the bull by the horns.

"God, Cook was really on one wasn't he?" she said, attempting to be light-hearted.

"Well, his methods may have been slightly sledgehammery," I replied. "But he did have a point."

"I didn't just go to London to see my sister," said Katie, looking out over the water. "I went to try to find a girlfriend."

"Oh," I said, and I could feel the blood visibly draining from my face.

"I thought about what you said, and I wondered if maybe you were right. That although I'm sexually bisexual, I seem to form my deepest bonds with women. Worth a fucking try, at least."

"Yeah," I agreed shakily.

"Anyway Emily knows loads of lezzers so I thought that would be a good place to start," she stated calmly.

"I'm not sure that's appropriate terminology if you're hoping to embrace your gay sexuality," I smirked.

"Yeah whatever," she replied dismissively. "Anyway her and Naomi took me to this big lezzer party."

"And?"

"Nothing," she replied. "I mean yeah, there were lots of women there. Lots of attractive women, but none of them made me feel anything. Not a spark. Nothing. I mean if you'd seen some of the blokes I'd shagged, you wouldn't think I'd be so picky, but…"

She trailed off.

"That's a shame," I said, still somehow stuck on the idea that I ought to be letting her go.

"Don't give me that shit, Effy Stonem," she said, shoving me in the shoulder. "Don't fucking try and pretend that you're not feeling all smug because I couldn't find anyone to match up to you."

"Ok, a little bit. There is some smugness," I admitted, before breaking out into a massive grin. "Actually there's a lot of smugness. There's a whole fucking mountain of smugness."

"Bitch," said Katie, shoving me a little bit harder. "No need to rub it in."

"Hey, you're the one that'll accept no substitutes," I shrugged.

"Yeah, well maybe I won't have to," she said, suddenly serious.

"What do you mean?" I asked her, my heartbeat punching me viciously from within.

Katie sighed and sat down with her back against the stone wall of the towpath, motioning me to come and sit beside her.

"There may be a way out of this," she said softly once I had made myself comfortable.

"How?" I asked in trepidation.

"Anna."

What was that kids' rhyme about sticks and stones? Words can never hurt me? Well that was clearly bullshit, cause that one single word invoked a screaming pain that spiraled outward from my gut as if I was being eviscerated. If I thought I was jealous of Cook, that was bunnies and chocolate compared to this.

"What Anna?" I said helplessly through gritted teeth.

"Effy, you know what Anna," said Katie kindly. "Naomi ran into her on a job, and apparently she's still in love with me."

"But she cheated on you," I flailed.

I know. Me, taking the moral high ground. What a tit.

"I know," said Katie. "But up until that point we were happy. Really happy. At least I was. I now realise that I might have been the one who was hurting her. Making her feel neglected. Undermining her confidence."

"Her confidence? But she's… but she's…" I floundered.

"She's what, Effy?" said Katie. "To you she's just an image, but to me she's a flesh and blood woman. A woman that I loved very dearly _because_ of her faults, her humanity and her vulnerability. Fuck, it was her finally showing me that side of herself that made me fall in love with her."

"I thought you hated her," I said.

"I thought I did too," confessed Katie. "But I'm not even sure it's possible to feel that amount of hate without it being fuelled by love."

"So what? You're just going to forgive her?"

"I don't know," said Katie, running her hand through her hair. "I honestly don't know if I can. I don't know if it could ever go back to the way it was. But hearing Naomi talk about her, and the state she was in, it just brought up all these emotions. Fuck knows I tried to bury them, but they are obviously still there."

The hammering I my heart started smacking its way into my brain. I was liking this less and less.

"She fucked you over, Katie," I said trying to shake the pain away from my head. Je sentais les ténèbres me transpercer a travers tous les pores de ma peau.

"She made a mistake, Effy," reasoned Katie. "God knows you and I have made enough of those. I honestly don't know how I would react if I saw her again, but it's worth a try, don't you think?"

"NO!"

The noise that came out of my mouth shocked both of us into silence. Part scream, part growl, part command, it seemed to resonate round the surrounding fields and bounce back towards us from the trees. It was a visceral animal cry of anguish, but it was a sound that shattered every last link of my self imposed chains and released me. Finally, this was Effy, with all her faults, her humanity and her vulnerability. It was a fucking relief. I might still be a hopeless mess, but I was my hopeless mess and not somebody else's neat solution. The burning and the shaking and the banging stopped, and a tide of calm washed over me.

"No," I said quietly, in a voice that once again resembled that of a human being. "I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't fucking stand it. Je crois que ça me détruirait le coeur."

I was blinking back tears, but they were tears of release more than tears of pain. I was smiling as I looked at her, but Katie still looked shell-shocked. Slowly, I lifted my hand and started pushing her hair back from her face. It was a gentle gesture that could have been interpreted any number of ways. Simple sisterly affection or a tenderness between lovers. We stared at each other wordlessly, holding our breath as we struggled to decide. If we could have stayed in that moment forever, maybe that lack of definition would have been enough. But the outside world demanded answers, and an intrusive inquisition was inevitable. It came sooner than I thought.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Effy," came the angry voice of my boyfriend, staring over the wall. He must have followed us from the barn.

"If you want to fuck her that badly, maybe you should just fuck her," he spat, before storming off.

The good girlfriend would have chased after him, made her apologies, tried to make excuses, tried to make it up to him. But it seems I wasn't the good girlfriend any more. Apparently Free Effy didn't particularly give a fuck.

"Don't you want to go after him?" asked Katie, her eyes still wide from all the drama.

"Not particularly," I admitted.

Before I knew it. I was pinned back against the wall. Katie was straddling me and kissing me with such raw passion, I was far too shocked to respond. My astonished body locked into some kind of rigid spasm and all I could do was sit there as she pressed her lips searchingly against me.

"Katie what are you doing?" I gasped, as soon as she would allow me.

She looked back at me with dark and fearsome passion-filled eyes. It would seem that my cry from the depths had released both of us from the confines of our goodness.

"Well he did say you should just fuck me," she rasped.

"I think he was being sarcastic," I said nervously. I wasn't sure I could survive this version of Katie.

"I don't care," she said breathily, and kissed me again.

This time my body erupted into action. My lips opened automatically and my pussy clenched as she pushed her tongue into my mouth. A thousand tiny fires ignited on all the nerve endings on my skin. She grabbed my face and pulled me tighter to her, and my hands flew up into her hair. I let her own me with her lips. Jesus, she felt so fucking good. Tout en moi me hurlait de capituler, exigeant que je la laisse me baiser. If I just let her take me, then it's not just my mistake, right? If I let her be the initiator then we can share the blame.

But then my conscience came back to claim me. I remembered the last time we had kissed by the canal, and her reasons for rejecting me. Could I really let her do this to herself? And I remembered my own earlier resolution. The answer does not lie with anyone else. The fightback has to come from you. I can't just let things happen to me any more. I have to take control. I wrapped my fingers through her locks and pulled her away from me.

"Katie, what about cheating?" I asked her. "What about not wanting to be my mistress? What about right and wrong?"

"I don't care," she said with steely determination. "I just don't care any more. All that sanctimonious holier than thou shit? All those neatly drawn little lines? It doesn't really work like that at all, does it? We're human. Stupid, messy, fucked up. The rules revolve around perfection, and yes there maybe some saintly people out there for whom the conflict never arises, but for the rest of us? Cook was right. Whose morality is it? And why do we torture ourselves when we fail to live up to it? I threw away the love of my life because I never gave her the chance to explain. And you? God, you. I was never just going to let Freddie have you, despite everything I told myself. If I was, I would have walked away from you months ago. It's too late now. We've already drawn blood, and there's only one way to heal the wound."

Katie's words poured out of her with a passion I had never seen before. Yes, there had been intimacy. Yes, there had been lust. But this was something else entirely. Cook's crude wisdom had been sound. We had been falling into a relationship right from the very start, but now it seemed the shackles were coming off. When we were good we had been amazing and beautiful, but now that we were bad we were fucking spectacular. We lasted seconds longer before we fell back into another revolutionary kiss. Physical desire rose up like a snarling beast. The chemicals of lust began to perform their evil deeds throughout my body. A thought began evolving in my head. In my animal brain it had started life as 'I really want to fuck you', but before it reached my lips it had somehow transformed into…

"Oh God, I really love you," said Katie.

I stopped dead. Lips, limbs, hands all froze in an instant, as a paralyzing fear spread its icy tentacles through my boiling blood. It wasn't the fear of her love itself. God, I wanted that. I craved it. C'était la peur de ce qu'adviendrait de cet amour si on commençait les choses comme ça.

"What?" said Katie in alarm. "What's wrong?"

The answer was dazzling in its clarity. I untangled myself from her purple locks and stroked her cheek with the back of my fingers.

"I'm going to have to end it," I said.

"No," said Katie panicking. "It just came out. I didn't mean it. I don't love you. I'm sorry. We'll be ok. Just don't leave me."

"Shhh," I said, placing two fingers on her lips. "Not you. Freddie."

"What?" she said, blinking and looking slightly stunned.

"I can't be in a relationship and feel like this about someone else," I told her.

"Feel like what?" she asked nervously.

"That you're the one who really understands me. That I can finally be myself with you. That although I miss you every single second you're not there, it's not because you're a crutch. It's because you're an inspiration. That you're invested in everything that I do. Every creative thought that I have, every little thing that amuses me, every little incident in my day; I want to share them all with you. That with you I feel safe enough to explore this darkness that surrounds me, and find a way to beat it. That this half-life is no longer enough for me. Que je te veux _toi_, je veux toutes les belles possibilités qui viennent d'être avec toi."

She kissed me again, but all her former hunger had subsided. This kiss was a gift.

"But it's complicated," I said when she withdrew her precious lips from mine. "I live with him. I run my business with him. I still care for him and I don't want to be unnecessarily cruel. The impact of this spreads wider than just the three of us. It's going to drag in Cook and Thomas too. We're a family, and if I fuck this up it could tear us apart. All the boys are important to me. I have to try to make them understand."

"Ok," said Katie hesitantly.

"All I'm saying is that it might take me a while," I assured her. "And I can't risk all of that lightly. I need to know. If I leave him? Will you be there for me?"

"Yes," she promised without a moment's hesitation.

"And Anna?"

"Anna is the past," she whispered. "I'll be there for you."

She went to kiss me again, but I put my fingers on her lips to stop her.

"Next time I kiss you," I said. "Je veux être toute à toi."

Our walk back was wordless too. Both of us were lost in our own thoughts, but our connection burned more brightly than ever. Love was like blood, and hers was already running through my veins. She didn't come back into the barn. We said our brief goodbyes in the yard, before she left me with a promise in my heart. I stayed outside for a while, smoking a fag on the dilapidated bench in the corner. As I tossed the butt away I began to smile. Not for anyone else. Just for myself. I had battles ahead, but the fear of them was gone. And as I turned to face them, I was reminded of my lioness of a mother. Sans risque, la vie n'est rien, eh Maman? No more lurking in the fog of drugs. No more burying my head in the sand of a smothering relationship. The lion cub must step out into the sun. I am Effy, hear me roar.

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Les mots d'Effy

1. La réponse n'est chez personne d'autre, le combat doit venir de toi.

The answer does not lie with anyone else, the fightback has to come from you.

2. Je me forcerai à être courageuse un autre jour. I could be brave and strong another day.

3. Et ça, mesdames et messieurs, c'était l'amour. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, was love.

4. Car en réalité je n'étais pas désolée du tout. Because the truth was that I wasn't really sorry at all.

5. Je n'étais simplement pas aussi courageuse qu'elle. I just wasn't as fucking strong as her.

6. Je sentais les ténèbres me transpercer a travers tous les pores de ma peau.

I could feel the darkness drilling into me through every pore in my skin.

7. Je crois que ça me détruirait le coeur. I think it would destroy my heart.

8. Tout en moi me hurlait de capituler, exigeant que je la laisse me baiser.

Every part of me was screaming for surrender, demanding that I let her fuck me.

9. . C'était la peur de ce qu'adviendrait de cet amour si on commençait les choses comme ça.

It was the fear of what would happen to that love if we started it like this.

10. Que je te veux _toi_, je veux toutes les belles possibilités qui viennent d'être avec toi.

That I want you, and every beautiful possibility that comes with you.

11. Je veux être toute à toi. I want to be all yours.

12. Sans risque, la vie n'est rien, eh Maman? Without risk, life is nothing, eh Mum?


	18. All Or Nothing

**Love. You. All. (Especially you SJ). Enjoy….**

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18. All Or Nothing

Katie

"Putain de merde," I yelled into my innocent phone. "What's the point of having a mobile if you never fucking answer it?

It had been five days since Effy had told me she was going to leave Freddie and I hadn't heard a word from her since. For the first two days I had tried to be cool even though every minute had seemed like an hour. She was right of course, this was a massive fucking deal for her and I needed to let her get her head round it without coming over all clingy and desperate. By day three I had started getting antsy. Kissing her had been incredible as it always was and I was impatient for more. A lot more. By day four, paranoia had started creeping in. What if she had changed her mind? What if the space that I had so dutifully given her had made her realise she was making a mistake? And why the fuck hadn't she called me, or at least sent me a fucking text? Maybe she was avoiding me. Well obviously she was avoiding me, but why? By the fifth day I had totally cracked and this was the third time I had called her. Straight to fucking voicemail again.

"You alright, Katie love?" came my Dad's voice from behind me, making me jump.

I turned round to see both of my parents staring at me with those creepy-arsed smiles of theirs. I swear, sometimes the pair of them look like when people get taken over by aliens in the movies.

"Boy trouble?" asked my Mum sympathetically.

"Yeah, he's like totally dumped," I said, trying to throw her off the scent.

I would have loved to have been able to talk to her, but what was I going to say? I had fallen in love with the girl who'd been poaching all our business? I was going to have to break it to them gently, but not until all this shit was sorted out.

"Well he obviously wasn't good enough for my Katie," said Dad, which was only to be expected. According to him, no boy was ever good enough for me.

My mother nodded along sagely. She was used to the disaster that was my love life.

"Oh Katie," she sighed. "When are you going to find someone lovely and settle down like your sister?"

Yeah Universe. When the fuck _was_ that going to happen? Did I really stand a chance of finding happiness with Effy? Or was the whole situation just too volatile?

"Why don't I open a bottle of wine?" suggested Jenna. "And then we can have a proper catch up."

Oh great, I thought, another fucking grilling. Maybe I could just pretend to be cut up over this fictitious boy and fend them off. Mum had extricated a bottle of white from the fridge and was heading for the living room. But as I made to follow her, a terrible thought struck me and stopped me in my tracks. What if Effy had found out? What if she was ignoring me because she knew I was a lying bitch?

"Actually Dad," I said. "Can you tell Mum I'm going down to the basement for a bit?"

"That's my girl," beamed Rob. "Nothing like a good workout to sort your head out. A fit body leads to a healthy mind."

Yeah, my mind was really fucking healthy. Lying to everyone I cared about and caught up between a girl from my past and a possible new future. I smiled at him and headed down the stairs. My Dad had always been a bit of a fitness freak and he had assembled an impressive array of gear in our basement. But despite the wide range of choice, there was only one piece of equipment I was interested in. I wanted to hit something.

I kicked off my shoes and took off my rings, pulling on a pair of gloves to protect my hands before laying into the punch bag. It was my go to fitness item of choice. Both me and Ems had taken full advantage of our Dad's obsession as we were growing up, but whereas Emily had the focus and disciplines to use the machines and do reps, reps, reps, I always preferred just smacking seven shades of shit out of stuff. Within minutes I was sweating as I pounded out my frustrations on the bag. Right now I hated my Dad and his stupid spying schemes. Without him I could just have met Effy at the party, and the discovery of our mutual attachment to pyro companies would have been nothing more than an amusing anecdote. But now I had gotten embroiled in this ridiculous set up, and I ran the risk of losing her. At some point I was just going to have to confess that I had lied to her, but things were just too fragile at the moment. That's if it wasn't already too late.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I yelled as I landed each aggressive blow. This would be fucking typical. For her to discover my subterfuge just as she had decided to take a chance on me. Suddenly the idea of spending the evening at my parents' house became untenable. I had to tell Effy, and I had to tell her tonight. But not before I had nipped back to my flat and changed into something fabulous.

I arrived at the barn ridiculously overdressed, but it was time to pull out the big guns and even to my own eye I looked stunning. It was Cook who answered the door.

"Oh fuck," he said the second he saw me.

It wasn't the most encouraging of greetings, but it didn't stop him giving me a mandatory eyefuck. Score one for the outfit then. I pushed past him into the barn.

"Anything I should know?" I said, once I had gained entry to the fortress.

Before he could answer we were interrupted by a loud crashing noise behind us.

"Effy?" came Freddie's hopeful voice, and I turned round to see him attempting to disentangle himself from the sculpture he had just knocked over. It was taking quite some effort as he was clearly off his tits.

"The fuck? You?" he slurred as he discovered I was not his girlfriend.

His eyes were red and his face was contorted with pain and confusion.

"Where's Effy?" I demanded, but I was interrupted by Freddie asking the exact same thing.

"What?" he frowned. "I thought she was with you."

"I thought she was with you," I countered. "What's going on?"

"It's you, isn't it?" he said accusingly.

"Is what me?" I asked.

"She broke up with me," he spat. "Said she had fallen in love with someone else."

"Yeah, it's me," I confessed. The boy was already in pain. There was no point dragging it out.

"I fucking knew it," he yelled. "How long?"

"Since Mayfest," I admitted. "We kissed at the after party."

"Jesus fuck," said Freddie, looking as though I had just thrown a spear through his heart. "Is that why you picked us out? So you could get into her pants?"

"I didn't know," I protested. "And I haven't been anywhere near her pants. I stopped it as soon as I found out she had a boyfriend."

Not exactly true, it was Effy who had stopped it. But I wanted him to know that we had tried.

"Then why didn't you just walk away, Katie?" he cried. "Why the hell didn't you just walk away?"

"I couldn't," I admitted, the words half catching in my throat.

"She told me you were nothing special," he whined. "She told me she had chosen me."

My heart sank a little at his words, but then my mind started running little flashbacks to all those moments of intimacy that Effy and I had shared. Surely they couldn't all just be a lie? I wonder how many mistresses across the ages had told themselves that very same lie.

"I guess she changed her mind," I said sharply.

Ouch, that was cruel, even for me, and I felt a little guilty at the pain in those big brown puppy eyes.

"Jesus, she's such a tart," exploded Freddie, and my hackles rose at the insult. Did he know how hard she had tried to do the right thing?

"Eight years," he continued. "Eight years I had to watch her fucking anything that moved. And when I finally, finally get her to give me a chance, she fucks me over by fucking another girl."

"I told you, we haven't slept together," I reminded him.

"No, cause that might have been just about bearable," he said, adopting a martyred tone. "But you, you had to steal her heart as well."

He looked around for something to take his frustrations on, and settled for kicking a cardboard box. Yeah, hardcore Freddie. My clinical side was already calculating that despite his size, if the worst came to the worst, I could pretty much definitely take him in a fight.

"At least we tried," I shrugged, but my diffidence seemed to enrage him. He moved over towards me, attempting to intimidate me with his size.

"Try harder," he said through gritted teeth as he towered over me.

"Ok, ok," said Cook placatingly, stepping in between us. "No need to get physical."

"I don't need fucking protecting, Cook," I told him.

"I was thinking more of Freds," he replied. "But I think the pair of you are missing the point here."

"Which is?" I said impatiently.

"Effy's been AWOL for three days, and neither of you have a fucking clue what's happened to her."

Any thoughts of fighting with Freddie to stake my claim disappeared in an instant. The thought of Effy lost on some massive bender, depressed, confused and all alone swept aside all other considerations. We had to find her first. We could sort out all this shit later.

"And you haven't heard from her?" I asked.

Both boys shook their heads.

"I presume you've tried calling her?"

"Just voicemail," sighed Cook.

"Jesus," said Freddie, as though it had just occurred to him. "What the fuck am I still doing here? I should be out looking for her."

"I'll come with you," I said. "It's Friday night and most of the clubs will be rammed."

"No you fucking won't," he yelled at me angrily. "She's my fucking girlfriend. It's my job to find her."

I bit my lip to stop myself from saying 'not any more she isn't', and watched as he picked up his car keys.

"Well you can put those down for a start," I said firmly. "You're wasted, and you're not going to be any use to her dead."

He debated it for a few seconds, before reluctantly throwing them back down on the table.

"Just don't fucking be here when I get back," he said and marched out of the front door.

I let a little of the tension release from my body.

"Do you think I should offer him a lift into town?" I quipped.

"Funny, Katie," replied Cook. "I don't think you and Freddie are going to be best mates any time soon. He fucking loves her, you know."

"Yeah, I get it," I said. "But the most important thing is to find Effy. So where should I look? Any favourite hangouts? Places she likes to run too?"

Cook eyed me very seriously before answering.

"You do love her, right?" he asked.

"You know I do," I said in frustration. "If I didn't you'd be getting your dick damp right now instead of having to break up a fight."

The infamous Cookie Monster grin made an appearance as he contemplated the scenario.

"Fair play," he smirked. "Come with me."

I followed him into his den where he got out a piece of paper and copied something down from his phone. When he was done, he handed it to me.

"What's this?" I said, staring at what appeared to be a French address.

"Where would you go if you felt like everything was getting too much for you, and you just wanted to run and hide and have someone take care of you for a while?" asked Cook.

"My sister Emily," I replied. She had always been my first port of call in any crisis.

"Good work," said Cook, and then his tiny little dick-shaped Cookie brain got instantly sidetracked. "Is she fit?"

"Very gay. Very taken," I replied, bursting his bubble before he went too far down that track. "Anyway, your point is?"

"Ok, well say Emily was on a research trip in Guatemala or some such. Where then?"

"I'd go to my Mum, I guess,"

She might be a little strange and obsessional, but Jenna did love me, and she would protect me to her last breath.

"Exactly,' said Cook, flicking the paper I had in my hands. "That's the address of Anthea's place in the country. She has an apartment in Paris, but instinct tells me Effy has gone south.'

"Where is it?" I asked.

"I dunno," shrugged Cook. "Middle of fucking nowhere, I think."

"Can we not just phone Anthea and ask if she's there?" I said.

"Anthea loves that girl like nothing on earth," answered Cook. "There's no way she would tell if Effy didn't want her to."

"Besides," he added with a twinkle in his eye. "Taking the easy option? That's what Freddie would do…"

Behind all of his daftness and bravado, Cook was a very smart man indeed. He knew exactly what effect that last sentence would have on me. I was halfway out of the door before I stopped and turned on my heels.

"Why are you doing this for me Cook?" I asked him. "Freddie's your friend, and all of this could totally wreck your group."

"You're a fighter, Katie," he said. "That's what Effy needs. And I honestly believe you might be able to do something no one else has managed. I think you might be able to make her happy."

"Thank you," I said, rushing up to him and giving him a heartfelt hug.

"S'ok," he said, wrapping me up in his powerful arms. "And remember, if it doesn't work out, my cock will always be hard for you."

"I'll bear it in mind," I grinned, kissing him on the lips, before heading out the door.

As soon as I got home I was straight onto my laptop. Travel logistics was what I did. I had spent years organising complex itineraries for shoots and shows. But fuck me, Cook had been wrong when he said it was in the Middle Of Nowhere. This was the place people from the Middle Of Nowhere went when they needed a bit of peace and quiet. But I remained undaunted. If Effy had gone to Ulan Bator, I would have followed her there. I managed to book myself on an Easyjet flight from Gatwick to Montpelier at lunchtime the next day. From there, I would have to hire a car and drive a couple of hours to try to find Effy's Mum's place, which was near a small village called Pougnadoires on a river called the Tarn. After that I'd have to busk it, as Google maps began to fail me when it got to that level of detail, but if all went well I would be there by tomorrow evening.

I didn't stop to contemplate the madness of what I was doing, racing off into the back of beyond in another country on a crazed romantic whim. Ironically what it did do was make me appreciate just how much effort Anna had put into her pursuit of me. Was I conflicted? The truth was yes, I was. But I had made a promise to be there for Effy if she had the courage to make a move, and the minute Freddie had declared that she had broken up with him my fate was sealed. It was all or nothing now.

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At first when I got to France I was all business. All about getting through customs and getting to the car hire place. All about hitting the road and heading north. All about the mission. But as I drove further north and further into the countryside, I felt myself beginning to breathe. I could understand why Effy would have chosen to come here. Almost without thinking, I started to relax from the urgency of my quest and started driving more slowly, as I began to appreciate the landscape that was revealing itself before me. I had spent a lot of time flying from city to city all over Europe. I had been to fancy resorts and grand events, each one experienced in a flurry of activity and a collective feeling of self-importance. But even though I was desperate to reach her, something told me I should absorb this country, and that through it I could better understand the woman I loved. I slowly removed the objective-based blinkers I usually wore when I travelled. If this was indeed a quest for True Love, then surely the journey should hold equal weight to the resolution. Effy and I had both been tested during our efforts to get here, and I suddenly felt grateful for that. Having fought so hard to reach this point could only make us appreciate it more.

I was still driving on the péage I crested a hill and an enormous valley opened out on either side of me. I plunged down the side of the hill and I found myself driving over a massive bridge so high up, it almost felt like I was driving through the very sky. It was so stunning I didn't know where to look. I struggled to keep my eyes on the road as my hungry retinas were torn between the majestic white structure of the suspension cables and towers that rose from the centre of the carriageway, and the stunning panoramas that were available to me on either side. The roadway curved round in a stately arc to the right, and as I traversed it I was afforded tempting glimpses of hidden treasures in the valleys beyond. The whole experience was surreal, but over way too soon and I found myself wondering if the monster bridge had been one of Effy's Mum's creations. I made a mental note to find out the name of the structure and ask.

It wasn't long after that I made the turn off the motorway and started to follow the road along the river Tarn. Any sense of wonder I might have had before this point was shattered as I moved deeper into the hills. The river had carved deep gorges into the rocks and the road clung perilously the side of vertiginous cliffs. As the little road twisted and turned alongside the river, I was gifted with some of the most beautiful landscapes I had ever seen. The blue green water flowed peacefully along the depth of the valley, and there was a stunning contrast between the grey of the rocks and the lively green of the vegetation that somehow managed to forge a living there. As if the natural environment wasn't breathtaking enough, the way mankind had made its impact here was gob smacking. Houses, chateaux, and even entire villages were cut into the side of the rocks, looking as though they might fall to their doom at any point. I had never seen anything quite like it, and the further I drove, the more convinced I became that Cook had been right. This was the perfect fucking hideaway. It felt like travelling back in time to a place where none of the pressures of modern day existence even existed. Each corner I rounded brought a new sensation of amazement as the most incredible view in the world I thought I had just experienced was replaced with something even more mindfuckingly beautiful.

I was almost giddy off it by the time I reached the village that was the nearest clue to Anthea's retreat. I had no option but to stop and ask for help, as internet technology had raised its hands and admitted defeat, we were that far into the depths of nowhere, and the address held no street name. I pulled up where I could find a space, which wasn't easy on the narrow roads, and walked back into the village, to search for signs of life. I find an old man sitting outside what appeared to be a small café, sipping on some kind of unknown murky drink and smoking a foul smelling cigarette.

"Bonsoir Monsieur," I said, sensing that English was not going to get me very far in this location. "Je cherche la maison de Anthea Chevalier."

He looked at me impassively and gave a barely perceptible shrug.

"Elle est une archtitecte," I ventured.

"Ah, la maison de l'architecte," he nodded, before launching into an incomprehensible set of directions.

All I could do was nod and smile as politely as I could cause I couldn't understand a fucking word he said. Effy and Thomas had been helping me learn some French but this was like another fucking language altogether. He spoke so fast and with such a strong accent, I didn't stand a chance. I looked on helplessly as he appeared to be asking me some sort of question. It seemed he had managed to pick up on my distress, as he began to speak very slowly and loudly as if he were talking to an idiot. I suddenly realised how the rest of the world felt. It was no use, even in his slowed down idiot's version, I could barely make any sense out of his words. Eventually he took pity on me and beckoned me to follow him into the café. He procured a piece of paper, and proceeded to draw me a map, accompanied by yet more incomprehensible instructions. But the map kind of made sense, so I thanked him and returned to my car. It was still relatively early, but the gorge was so deep the sun had already disappeared and the evening was filled with shadows. Dutifully following my hand drawn map I reached a turn off from the main road. Little more than a track really, it started to climb perilously up the side of the valley. Growing narrower and more dangerous the higher I got, I began to doubt the wisdom of my informant. Surely there could be nothing more up here than a bunch of goats? As it started getting darker, I grew a little more scared, but there was nowhere to turn round and I sure as fuck wasn't reversing back down there.

My heart was proper racing when I turned a corner, and suddenly I was bathed in light. The trackway opened out into a small car park, and at the other end of it was a narrow building hugging the cliff that appeared to be about four storeys high. I drew the car to a halt and stepped out. My jaw dropped open as I ran my eyes up the height of the building. It was a beguiling cocktail of glass and local stone that looked like it was growing out of the cliff itself, and was artfully lit in a mixture of soft pinks and blues from cleverly concealed lighting. From where I stood the whole structure looked not much wider than the width of a hallway, and away to my right I could tell that the cliff dropped down almost perpendicular to the river until it hit the bottom of the gorge. So where was the actual house? I stood there for at least ten minutes just staring at it, whilst I worked up the courage to go and knock on the door. It was getting late, and I had made no alternative arrangements for somewhere to stay if this wasn't the right place or Effy wasn't here.

I took a deep breath and walked forward. Nothing else for it, I marched up to the door and rang the doorbell. The next few seconds could prove me a reckless idiot, or be the beginning of the rest of my life. A light went on in the hallway, and I heard footsteps coming towards the door. Here we go then, all or nothing.

Oh fuck.

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**Ladies and Gentlemen, if you haven't had the good fortune to go there Google 'Les Gorges du Tarn' and prepare to be amazed. After you have done that, make plans to visit them at some point in your life, and your amazement will know no bounds. The bridge mentioned is the Millau Viaduct, the tallest bridge in the world. Google that too.**

**Au revoir…**


	19. Vertigo

**Well it's been a while, but there has been a very good reason. Those regular readers will know how seriously I take my research (especially Effy's drug-fuelled highs) … so in the interest of understanding Katie, I have decided to fall in love with a French girl, and I have been off having adventures... And what with all my show commitments.. blah, blah, blah… So I'm sorry to keep you (and most especially SJ) waiting, but I can assure you it has been worth it ;-) **

**In other news, there is now talk of SJ being able to leave hospital at some point, so I thank all of you who have sent your love and support, and let's keep it up for the final push to get this beautiful girl back into the world.**

**Enjoy, and I will try not to keep you hanging on for so long next time.**

**Hypes xx**

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19. Vertigo

Effy

I wouldn't exactly say that I was happy, but for the moment I was peaceful. I had been drinking wine with my Mum in the living room. Quite an everyday activity you might think. Except mine was no ordinary mother, and this was no ordinary living room. My mother's career had always been stellar. From the moment she had stolen the toy construction set that had been intended for her elder brother, little tiny bridges had begun appearing all over the house. I was amazed she ever made the time to have a family, and completely astounded that she uprooted us all from her beloved France to come and live in 'ce petit pays pourri'. It served as a reminder that she must have really loved my Dad at one point of her life, and of the power that passion can wield over even the strongest of minds.

I knew my mind was never that strong in the first place, which was why I ran like a screaming banshee from the merest suggestion of love. Breaking up with Freddie was horrible. I had held onto it for a day before I dared even to try, attempting to work out a humane way of doing it. Mais pour finir j'ai craqué dès qu'il a essayé de m'embrasser. I simply couldn't kiss him again after kissing Katie like that. It didn't seem right. Yes, it would appear that I had grown a moral backbone at last, but at least I felt more comfortable with it. At least it had felt like mine.

And so I just came out and said it. After all there is no easy way for a human being to hear that they are no longer loved the way they were, and are now surplus to requirements. No matter how much I tried to sugar the pill with how much I still loved him as a friend, there was no way of getting round the fact that I wanted Katie more than I wanted him, and that I was prepared to cast him aside to win her love. And then there was the shouting, and then there were the tears and the wild fucking vomiting of emotion. I had never in my life meant to be intentionally cruel. That's what all the meaningless shagging had been about. An attempt to circumvent the contradictions of love with people who felt the same way as me. But there were always the times when people failed to abide by the rules of the convention and fell in love with me. I never asked them to fall in love with me, they just did. Mais après tout, les gens veulent toujours ce qu'ils ne peuvent pas avoir, non?

As I forced myself to listen to Freddie's emotional pleading, I was struck by a sudden fear that the force of mine and Katie's attraction was driven by the very forbidden nature of the liaison itself. After all, had it not been the thought of her returning to Anna and becoming unavailable to me that had kicked me out of my stupor? What if after everything, Katie's passion began to wane once she finally had me in her grasp? When I went downstairs and saw the worried looks on Cook and Thomas's faces, it was enough to send me into a full-blown panic. What had I done? It wasn't as if I could retract my words, and pretend everything was ok again. The decision was immediate and instinctive. I went back up to my bedroom and threw a few things in a bag. Then I hightailed it out of there to the one place on this earth where I would always feel safe.

For most of my young life I had woefully underestimated Anthea. For some reason, I had always assumed she would be judging me, measuring my own inability to cope with life against her own unswerving belief in her dreams, and her efficient drive to achieve them. But I was wrong. She had always been quite bullish as a parent, her brash style of love keeping me and Tony constantly on our toes. Mais c'était quand il s'est retrouvé pris dans ce tremblement de terre qu'elle a révélé sa vraie fougue et l'amour que j'ai vu jaillir d'elle était puissant et vital. Not long afterwards she dragged me away from my own self-destructive urges and gave me a new home. When I turned up on her doorstep a couple of days ago distressed and dishevelled, she had welcomed me with open arms. She hadn't asked me any awkward questions or pressurised me into spilling my guts. Instead she had fed me and plied me with wine, accepting me back into her comfortable existence without a word.

Anthea had designed and built this house whilst we were still in England. It was supposed to be a holiday home, but I have no idea how much she was foreshadowing the eventual breakdown of her marriage in building this most exquisite of boltholes. It's funny to think that the place you just think of as home has won several awards and appeared in magazines the world over. It was even used in some French thriller as the villain's evil lair. It is hardly surprising though as the building is unequivocally stunning. Long, high and thin, it curves around the face of the cliff to which it appears to so perilously cling. To the untrained eye, its feat of levitation appears impossible, but Anthea employed all of her advanced bridge technology to make sure it is as safe as, well… houses.

Despite the appearance of its entry wall, it is in fact only three storeys high. On the top floor the lift and stairwell open out onto a beautiful rooftop garden, complete with swimming pool, integrated solar panels and a windmill. The second floor comprises of an open plan work and study area with drawing boards, a meeting table and several computer stations. Through a frosted glass partition is a fitness studio, even though vigorous repetitive lifting of the wine glass is Anthea's only idea of a workout. The first floor contains several bedrooms, each with its own ensuite bathroom. On each floor the exterior wall is made entirely of glass. The ground floor opens from the front door into an impressive lobby designed to blow the minds of those clients lucky enough to receive an invitation here. Off to the left a kitchen with a glass roof nuzzles into a natural indentation into the rock. Straight ahead lies the living room.

Eight metres wide and forty metres long, again open plan, but with various different areas set up for dining, entertainment or simply staring out of the enormous windows at the breathtaking beauty of the gorge. The house faces south and gets the sun all day long, and it is possible to open all the windows and step out onto the terrace beyond. Anthea and I had eaten on the terrace, but later we had retired inside to watch the sun go down. We quaffed our wine in comfortable silence whilst nature put on an electrifying show. In this perfect setting it was possible to forget that the outside world existed, to dismiss any problems that you had and exist within the moment. Avec un ventre plein de la bonne cuisine de Maman, et la nature majestueuse étendue devant moi pour mon plus grand plaisir, je pouvais me permettre un moment pour laisser ce bien-être fuyant se glisser dans mes veines.

It had begun to get dark, and Anthea was giving me progress reports on her latest flagship project when the doorbell rang. Anthea creased her brow, and I guessed it wasn't very usual to have unexpected callers at this hour. She drained her glass and stood up a little unsteadily, before heading out into the lobby. My interest waned the minute she left the room. Whoever it was, was of no consequence to me, and I returned my attentions to the mellow fruity red and the restful silence of the gorge. That sound was shattered by the strident sound of my mother's voice.

"Effy," she yelled unceremoniously. "Il y a une femme belle à en tomber par terre ici qui veut te voir."

In a heartbeat my body was assaulted by every physical cliché associated with love and desire, whilst my brain ground to a halt in shock. Surely it couldn't be..? Surely she couldn't be here? But I was immediately overwhelmed by just how much I wanted it to be her, for her to have discovered my hiding place and to have come for me. If it was true, and she had found me, j'avais le sentiment que je n'allais plus jamais être perdue. Tentatively, I peeled my shaking body from the sofa, and ventured out into the hallway.

Anthea had tactfully buggered off into the kitchen, and I was met with the sight of Katie staring around her in wonder at my mother's inspiring handiwork. The lobby rose straight up encompassing all three storeys and the entrance of the roof garden. Across it ran an intricate and unconventional pattern of open gleaming metal staircases to all floors. And in between them, "parce qu'on ne doit jamais oublier comment jouer", snaked a curling tubular slide on which you could slither back down to earth. I watched Katie mouth a silent 'wow' as she stared up at the fascinating structure, and she looked so unspeakably cute that any doubts and fears that I may have had evaporated like rain in the desert. Katie's eyes dropped down and she spotted me from across the hallway. Her stunning brown eyes projected a mixture of hope and anxiety as she tried to gauge whether it was alright for her to be here. I held her gaze for a few seconds, more out of shock than hesitation, and then as if an unknown signal had passed between us, we both propelled ourselves towards the centre of the floor.

Our arms flew around each other in an automatic tight embrace and we clung together tightly as if this vital contact was food to the starving. I buried my face in her hair and marvelled at how beautifully we seemed to fit, as if all of space and time had been waiting for this union. It wasn't as if we hadn't held each other before, this much contact had always been allowed under our disguise as friends, but now we were released it held so much potential it bordered on the terrifying. Neither one of us spoke. Neither one of us made a move to progress it. We simply stood there in the hallway wrapped around each other with our eyes tightly closed and breathed in the moment. There were a thousand different emotions rioting through my head, but I could have held her like that all night. The one thing that my fruit machine of a mind kept spinning back to was that this was right. I was overwhelmed with joy and awe that she was here. I wanted this night to be the start of something, just like she had said. L'embrasser serait lui faire une promesse. I finally found the strength to relinquish the embrace, if only for a little while.

"How did you find me?" I whispered, reluctant to interrupt the perfect language of our silence.

"Because it was meant to be," she replied. "I think I was always meant to find you."

In that moment, those felt like the most beautiful words I had ever heard. On instinct, I leaned straight in to kiss her, because that was the only thing that was meant to happen next, but her fingers came up between us and blocked my path. I blinked at the unexpected interruption. She had come all this way not to kiss me? But Katie was studying my face with a fearsome intent.

"You told me that the next time you kissed me, you wanted to be all mine," she said, with an innocence I found heart-wrenching. "Are you?"

I was. I knew it. And it was about time I made sure Katie knew it too. She had kept the faith through all of my ridiculous dallying. And her intentions, although not in line with accepted moral codes, had always been true. She loved me, and though I might have been confused and apprehensive, she had never once made me afraid of that. Throughout all our trials and tribulations, she had never once given me cause to doubt her, either as a lover or a friend. I smiled at her. Il n'y avait désormais qu'un seul possible dénouement.

"Oui," I said, as if it held more weight in my mother tongue. "Je suis complètement à toi."

I watched her pupils dilate at my words, and I could hold myself back no longer. I leaned in to touch the lips that had been my greatest temptation ever since I had met them with my own. This time it was different though. This time there would be no guilt and no regrets. I expected it to be frantic, desperate even. That after all this time our much-repressed desires would explode beyond our control and we would fall upon each other like animals. But in fact the opposite happened. Katie touched her lips delicately to mine and I felt an unexpected blissful calm. It was a kiss that sent me a message. She trusted me. She was in no rush to claim me, because she believed in us now.

I closed my eyes and let myself drift luxuriously into the sensation, opening myself up to every tiny detail. The way her perfume drifted up from where she had sprayed it on her neck. The texture of the fabric on her clothes as my hands drifted around her waist. The precise angle of the way our heads tilted to accommodate the slight difference in our heights. Le bruit du passage de l'air qu'on respirait entre nos baisers, partageant chaque souffle entre nos deux poumons. The feeling of my hair fluttering down to form a curtain around us. The contrast between the cold hard texture of the tiles beneath my bare feet, with the warm fluid heat beginning to radiate outwards from my pelvis. It was as if I wanted to capture this moment for eternity and not let a fraction of it escape into the fog of murky forgotten spacetime.

I found myself smiling against her lips as we continued to move them in harmony. Because this was the kiss I always wanted to give her. The kiss that she deserved. It was not a kiss to be forgotten, but a kiss to forget yourself in, and when I felt her tongue slip into me I felt no regret for the decisions I had made. Of course I still regretted the pain that I had caused, but the payoff more than overcame my scruples. I don't know how long I just stood in the hallway kissing her, but the moment held such a magical attraction I felt no urgency to push it on. My life had become entirely immersed in the simple touch of Katie.

She began to kiss different bits of my face. My cheekbones, my forehead, my closed eyelids. Never before had such uncomplicated actions cut so deeply into me. Here was a high far sweeter than all the pills and powders that had passed through my fragile frame. Un espace rempli d'une lumière si brillante que les ténèbres n'avaient aucun espoir d'y pénétrer. Again, as if some unseen show caller was giving us our cues, our hands began to simultaneously explore the body on offer to us. I ran my hands up and down her arms. She curled her palms around my bum and gave me a delicate squeeze. I drew my fingers across the space between her skirt and her top. She ran one finger down my spine. I tangled myself into her soft dark purple locks. She cupped my face in her hands. Still, we hadn't really looked at each other. Maybe we were both too terrified by the weight of expectation we feared we might find in each other's eyes. Both of us knew that this was no casual frippery. Both of us knew that this liaison was loaded. It was in this knowledge that we were dancing around the inevitable fall, neither one of us willing to take that final step.

Not that I particularly cared. This snogging was a wonder of the world all in itself. I was drunk on the unfamiliar warm glow of happiness. Jesus, was this what other people experienced when they stroked their kittens or played with their children? When they watched a sunset or danced to their favourite tune? When they ate a fantastic meal or pottered about in their garden? When they created an efficient spreadsheet or watched their sports team thrashing their opponents? All these simple pleasures had seemed like distant unobtainable fantasies to me, helium filled balloons of loveliness forever floating just out of reach of my fingertips. Until the effortless delights of kissing Katie in my hallway had ignited the hitherto dormant neural pathways in my brain that gave me access to the emotion.

I honestly think it would have been enough, but then Katie suddenly shifted her weight, and pushed one of her thighs up in between mine and a sexual six inch shell exploded through every nerve in my body. I pulled out of our marathon snog and looked her in the eye for the first time.

Suddenly I became the girl I always wanted to be. The girl I became just before firing. 'La fille sans peur qui pouvait mettre le feu à la nuit.' Katie's lust filled eyes looked up at me expectantly.

"Let's go to bed," I said commandingly, and I swear I felt a little wobble in her legs.

"If you're sure," she said tentatively. "I came just because I wanted to see you, whatever that meant. I didn't come because I was expecting something."

"You should expect something," I told her.

"Yeah?" she answered, becoming a little bolder.

I leaned in close to her till I could whisper provocatively in her ear.

"Expect fireworks," I said.

I smirked as I felt the shudder run through her body. I knew I could do this to people, but to do it to Katie felt infinitely sweeter. I took a couple of steps backwards, drawing my fingers down her arm until I connected with her hand, and continuing until we were at arms length.

"Shall we?" I offered.

"Fuck yeah," came the typical no bullshit reply.

Good God, she was magnificent. I was going to fuck this girl within an inch of her life. I led her up the stairs to the bedroom that Anthea always kept for me. Feeling unexpectedly chivalrous, I held the door open for her and gestured her into the room. She had barely made it across the threshold before she burst out laughing.

"Expecting someone, were you?" she giggled.

I followed her into the room to discover and open champagne bottle nestling in an ice bucket, accompanied by two crystal flutes. It would appear my creepy ninja skills were inherited directly from my mother. I hadn't even seen her slip past us.

"I think this means my mother likes you," I said. "She never gave Freddie champagne."

Katie's eyes flashed up at me at the mention of his name, but all that did was make me even more certain that I had made the right decision.

"It's ok," I said, wrapping her in my arms. "I've made my choice."

"I'm scared," she admitted. "This feels fucking enormous."

"What do you want from me, Katie?" I asked her. "I'll give you anything I can."

"I want you to fuck me like you love me," she replied.

All sense of decorum vanished at her words. A hot flash of desire exploded outwards from my belly and I let it carry me in its blast wave. I pulled her into a scorching kiss, and this time I didn't censor my intent. My hands gripped tightly around her back and I pushed my tongue deep into her mouth. I felt a force coming back at me from her as she welcomed me in. She was right, this was fucking enormous. All the barriers we had erected to keep ourselves 'safe' shattered in an instant. This was a pure, raw emotion I had never experienced before, but instead of rendering me paralysed with fear, it excited and energised me. After so much denial all I wanted now was to get her naked and feel my hand inside her body.

"J'ai envie de toi," I told her as I pushed her back towards the bed.

Desire was whipping up a sandstorm across my skin, every inch of me burning and stinging, and I knew relief would only come from the soothing touch of her naked flesh against mine. I was already tugging at her clothing as we tumbled down onto the covers. Katie's hands were as eager as mine, and she dragged my dress from my body, leaving me straddling her in just my pants. Her pupils widened as she took in the view, and for a moment I just sat there letting her enjoy the sight of me and relishing the emotions it released.

I felt her hips bucking up in need underneath me and she threw her hands over her head, laying herself open for my assault. I pushed her top up over her head and experienced a massive headrush at the sight of her bra-clad breasts. I have always appreciated a decent cleavage, but I swear my mouth must have dropped open in awe as I blatantly stared at the magnificent sight in front of me.

"My face is up here," she smirked.

"Yes, but I love all your body parts equally," I quipped.

"How do you know?" she grinned. "You haven't seen all of my body parts."

"A mistake I plan on rectifying immediately," I replied.

I kissed her belly as I undid the zip of her skirt, and my lips danced happily all the way down her thighs as I relieved her of her underwear. I pulled off my own pants before tasting the glorious contours of her legs all the way back up again. She moaned and thrust her hips towards me as I neared her pussy, but despite the siren lure of her scent, I restrained myself and continued my journey upwards. Not yet, my love. Not yet.

"Oh fuck," she hissed as she realised I was going to make her wait for her satisfaction. But no matter how desperate I was to fuck her, Katie was not something I could rush. This was not some random fuck or a return to my old promiscuous ways. The sexual fervour was just as intense, but far from being a step backwards, this was a headlong dive into the future. I had known from the very first time I had seen her, owning that fashion show like a bitch, that she was an extraordinary woman. J'ai su dès la première fois que je l'avais embrassée que si je la laissais vraiment me toucher, elle changerait ma perception du monde. It was time.

I reached around her back and skilfully undid her bra with one hand. At the same time I forced her legs apart with my knee and slid my thigh across her pussy. For a second I almost went into catatonic shock. The sight of her naked breasts combined with the feel of how wet she was for me was enough to make my heart stop dead. I groaned involuntarily and gasped for the hit of oxygen I needed to kickstart my body again. I felt my own cunt clench and flood as I laid my cheek gently against one of her tits. I slowly slid my face around until my lips were close enough to surround her nipple. I took her into my mouth and was rewarded with the most gorgeous undulations of her incredible curves beneath me. I began to tease her, flicking her with my tongue and then pulling just out of reach, enjoying watching her straining up to try and find me again. I played this game for several minutes, relishing the symphony of her moans and the ballet of her writhing torso. I wanted her to be aching for me by the time I took her. I wanted her to feel every tiny movement of my fingers inside her. Je voulais que son besoin de moi soit plus fort que son besoin de respirer.

"Oh fuck, Effy," she moaned as my resolve weakened and I sucked fervently on her tit. Smiling or swearing in rage, Katie was always beautiful, but seeing her like this was kicking life into my long dead heart. This was a beauty I was willing to drown in. I kissed her feverishly all over her body, lavishing each joint and muscle with equal attention. It was no lie when I told her I loved all of her body, for now I was finally free to discover her, every curve and mole and scar became an object of my fascination, perfection and imperfection blended seamlessly together to make one magnificent whole.

"Jesus Christ, Babes. What the fuck are you doing to me?" she gasped breathlessly.

I crawled back up her body from where I had been studiously focussing on her belly button, and looked straight into those luxurious brown eyes.

"I am so fucking wet for you, Effy," she said. "I need to feel you inside me."

I couldn't deny her any more, and so I kissed her passionately and slid my fingers into her opulent wetness. Both of us groaned in unison as I made contact with her clit.

"Putain, que tu es belle," I said, my fingers instantly drenched as they played along her folds. I gazed in complete rapture at the way she responded to my touch. I ran my fingertips up and down over her clit, smiling every time I made her cry out. She spread her legs wider, and pushed her hips up higher from the bed, and I knew what she was asking for. My whole body shuddered with anticipation, but still I couldn't commit. Katie must have had me under some kind of spell, because for the first time in my life I was actually nervous about fucking somebody. What if I wasn't as good as Anna? What if she up and left me for the Russian? For fuck's sake Effy, just fuck the girl already. She's screaming for you, and you've never had any complaints before.

"I need you, Babes," sighed Katie, vocalising what her body had been telling me all along.

Instinct overcame fear and I entered her with one deliciously long slow thrust.

"Jesus Cocking Christ," cried Katie, coming up to meet me. "Baises-moi, salope!"

I was smiling to myself as I complied with her request. Looks like those rap videos had their uses after all. I began moving slowly in and out of her, still slightly stunned by how amazing her hot, wet cunt felt around me.

"Oh God, I've wanted this for so long," she whispered in my ear as I pushed into her. "You feel fucking amazing, Babes."

My face drifted back to her wonderful tits and I dined upon them with lips and teeth and tongue as I found a perfect rhythm with my lover. Katie was deliciously vocal and I bathed in the sound of every moan and curse, my fingers sliding easily in and out of her ever-increasing wetness. I began to feel myself losing control. My brain was flashing me all kinds of signals I had never experienced before during sex. The harder I fucked her, the more she drew me in. The filthier I got, the more beautiful she became, screaming my name and urging me on, throwing her body at me in sweet violent abandon. The desire to satisfy her became a physical need, and I slid carelessly over the line of emotional detachment I had maintained for years. Though I had never had a fear of heights, I now fully understood the feeling of vertigo that makes you want to leap from the edge and abandon yourself to gravity.

I would go willingly. I abandoned myself to Katie's gravity and let the emotions wash over me. It was the best fucking high of my life, and I knew a lot about being high. I could feel her nails ripping into the flesh of my back as I rammed myself inside her, but the pain only added to the high. I could feel her rising orgasm and I threw all the energy I had into my wild thrusts. Katie's stream of increasingly staccato curses dried up as she struggled to control her breath. Our eyes locked in the final moments, and when I took her into climax we were completely and irretrievably connected.

Her orgasm was explosive and violent, smashing both of us up and down and shaking the bed. I kept my thrusts going until her whole body shuddered, and her cunt gripped me so tight I could barely move inside her any more. We collapsed into a sweaty breathless mess, and it was several minutes before either of us could even think about moving or talking. I stayed inside of her the whole time. I loved the way she was gripping onto me, and I couldn't bear to break the bond. Every bit of my flesh that was pressed against her was sending me messages of unadulterated joy. I just wanted to stay wrapped round her for the rest of the night. Où peut-être le reste de ma vie.

I felt my back starting to sting as the adrenalin rush began to subside, but I didn't care. The gift she had given me was more precious than any other consideration. She had shown me how to feel, and I finally understood why people went so crazy over love.

It was worth it.

I slowly dragged my head up from the enticing cushion of her breasts, and stared down into her hopeful eyes. Eyes that were searching mine and asking me a question. Was this real? Was I able to love her? I answered her with words I had never before uttered in my native tongue.

"Je t'aime."

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**Interpretations from a beautiful mind…**

1. 'ce petit pays pourri'- 'that shoddy little country'

2. Mais pour finir j'ai craqué dès qu'il a essayé de m'embrasser. - But in the end I cracked the very first time he tried to kiss me.

3. Mais après tout, les gens veulent toujours ce qu'ils ne peuvent pas avoir, non? - But then again, people always want what they can't have, don't they?

4. Mais c'était quand il s'est retrouvé pris dans ce tremblement de terre qu'elle a révélé sa vraie fougue et l'amour que j'ai vu jaillir d'elle était puissant et vital.

- But it was when he was caught in that earthquake that she showed her true colours, and the love that I saw erupt from her was fierce and vital.

5. Avec un ventre plein de la bonne cuisine de Maman, et la nature majestueuse étendue devant moi pour mon plus grand plaisir, je pouvais me permettre un moment pour laisser ce bien-être fuyant se glisser dans mes veines.

- With a belly full of Anthea's fine cooking, and the majesty of nature laid out for my viewing pleasure, I could allow a little bit of that elusive happiness to creep into my veins.

6. "Il y a une femme belle à en tomber par terre ici qui veut te voir."

- "There's a drop dead gorgeous woman here to see you."

7. j'avais le sentiment que je n'allais plus jamais être perdue.- I had the feeling I was never going to be lost again.

8. "parce qu'on ne doit jamais oublier comment jouer" - "because we must never forget how to play"

9. L'embrasser serait lui faire une promesse. - When I kissed her, I would be making her a promise.

10. Il n'y avait désormais qu'un seul possible dénouement.- There was only one way this was going to end.

11. "Je suis complètement à toi."- I am completely yours

12. Le bruit du passage de l'air qu'on respirait entre nos baisers, partageant chaque souffle entre nos deux poumons.

- The sounds of the passage of air as we breathed through our kisses sharing breath from lung to lung.

13. Un espace rempli d'une lumière si brillante que les ténèbres n'avaient aucun espoir d'y pénétrer.

- A place filled with such beautiful light, the darkness could never even hope to penetrate.

14. 'La fille sans peur qui pouvait mettre le feu à la nuit.' - The fearless girl who could set the night on fire.

15. "J'ai envie de toi," – I want you

16. J'ai su dès la première fois que je l'avais embrassée que si je la laissais vraiment me toucher elle changerait ma perception du monde.

- I had known from the very first time I kissed her, that to let her in would be to alter my perception of the world.

17. Je voulais que son besoin de moi soit plus fort que son besoin de respirer.

- I wanted her to need me more than she needed to breathe.

18. "Putain, que tu es belle," – Fuck, you're beautiful

19. "Baises-moi, salope!" – Fuck me, bitch.

20. Où peut-être le reste de ma vie. - Or possibly the rest of my life.

21. "Je t'aime" – I love you


	20. The Birth Of A Fucking Universe

**Once again, my apologies for the long gaps between posting, and to those of you who feared I might be abandoning this story. I have no intention of doing that, and there is lots more adventure to come. In my defence, I have been involved in creating two major shows and have not had any time off. Also I have been doing a lot of the research and writing for one of them, which an Arts Council dude said was 'the most intelligent piece of outdoor theatre he'd ever seen' – so my creative brain has not been idle, just otherwise engaged.**

**Just like Katie, having a French girlfriend has been improving my language skills, but thanks once again to blueeyedfrog02 for being a great teacher. Big Love to SJ, and I thank the rest of you for your patience. Et maintentant l'histoire…**

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20. The Birth Of A Fucking Universe

Katie

I woke up lying on my belly with the sun streaming over my body. As I blinked my way back to consciousness, I struggled to remember where I was. I felt a gentle weight slung across my back and I turned my head to identify its source. It was Effy, sleeping peacefully with her arm wrapped lazily around me. Oh God, Effy. Memories of the night before came flooding back over me in waves, making me shiver and sparking an instant pool of wetness between my thighs. Whatever I had expected to discover at the end of my odyssey, the reality had blown all preconceptions into smithereens. Oh God, Effy. She had made love to me so exquisitely I wanted to weep at the though of it. She had drunk her mother's champagne from my navel and told me that she loved me. After that we had talked and shagged and cuddled half the night. I couldn't stop touching her. I didn't want to let her go. I couldn't stop looking into those ridiculously blue eyes and grinning like a fuckwit. Despite the exhaustion of my journey, I had to keep kissing her over and over again.

Like I couldn't believe my luck. Like I couldn't believe she had finally let me love her. Like I was afraid it was all going to shatter like frozen blood in the harsh light of day. Like I had to prove to her that there was no coming back from this. Like I had to be spectacular, so I could fuck my way into her heart.

But it was Effy who was spectacular. Fuck, no wonder Freddie had been so in love with her. The ripple of guilt I felt about taking her from him faded quickly as flashback after flashback shuddered through my frame. As I looked at her beautifully content face next to me, there was none of the usual 'morning after' anxiety. What had happened between us was simply just too fucking beautiful not to have been for real. Even so, I was loath to disturb the moment. I lay there in perfect bliss until my body started to complain and I was forced to change position.

I slid round onto my side with my back to my fabulous lover, and attempted to get a handle on my surroundings. Effy's arm slipped round my waist and she unconsciously pulled me tighter, and I was filed with an enormous sense of well-being. I felt like I belonged here. Here in this fantastical house, where some kind of space-age heat deflection system was keeping me from roasting to death in the morning sun. I refocused my eyes to take in the jaw-droppingly breathtaking view outside the wall of windows. The view matched my mood, as I felt like I was both physically and emotionally floating on air. I felt Effy starting to stir beside me, and as I rolled around to face her, my eyes caught something scrawled across one of the huge panes of glass. Effy must have gotten up in the night, for written messily across the window in a rather fetching shade of purple lipstick were the following words.

"Je t'aime, Katie Ford."

My heart ripped itself in two as I read them. First the soaring elation at the unequivocal declaration of her love, and then the instant and devastating shattering of that euphoria as I was presented with the evidence of my own deception. I had betrayed her. Effy had risked everything for me, and all of it was based on a lie. Though in truth, I had never used anything I knew to damage her or her company, I doubted very much she would be able to see it like that when the truth came out about my identity.

I had meant to tell her, I really had. I had wanted her to make her final decision with a full knowledge of all the facts. But then she had started kissing me and my body had demanded the lion's share of the attention, leaving my poor little conscience a solitary protester shouting into the wind as the corporate bulldozers of lust ran riot over it's territory.

As my eyes grazed over my alias, my muscles seized, and my body slipped into a kind of paralysis as a raging fear began to consume my consciousness. Should I confess? It was only what she deserved, but how could I be sure how she would react? This was just too fucking good. Having tasted her, the thought of a life without her seemed completely impossible. Could I really take the risk of losing her now, when it was all so new and so fragile? Maybe I should wait a little while, and allow this love to settle before introducing such a shadow. I wanted to be good, to be the moral person I had always prided myself on being. But the fear of losing this extraordinary woman just as I had found her, was a fierce and powerful beast. One that eventually proved stronger than me. In the end, it was Effy who forced my hand. She began to kiss my shoulder, and the sweet sensual sensation was enough to ease my muscles from their paralysis. By the time her kisses reached my neck, my pussy was already soaking for her. By the time she tasted my lips, all thoughts of moral fortitude had evaporated.

I surrendered to her mind, body and soul. If I couldn't explain to her why my mission had become meaningless the moment I had realised that our 'enemy' was her, then perhaps I could show her why. Show her how much she mattered to me. Show her that our love transcended such trivial considerations. Show her that the truth could not be told in words, but that she already truly knew me through her touch.

When I felt her tongue trace across my lips, I immediately opened myself to her, and felt a fierce aching in my cunt as soon as she accepted my invitation and pushed herself into my mouth. My thighs clamped around her leg as I shuddered underneath her. Effy responded to my wantonness by becoming more aggressive, and I swore breathlessly into her neck as her hands began a rough possession of my tits. My legs fell apart for her, and I arched up towards her. She could do what the fuck she liked with me. Oh God, I had missed this glorious sense of abandon. Although it was a blasphemy, I found my thoughts turning to Anna. She was the last, and only other person to make me feel like this, and also the reason I had become too guarded to ever feel it since.

Until now. Until Effy. With her hand hovering over my cunt and her mouth sucking hard upon my tit, I was begging her to fuck me. I wanted to give her every little ounce of me. I wanted her to know that what we had found was way more important than the lie. I wanted her to own me, as if by letting her take me completely she could cleanse me of my sins.

"Oh please, Effy. God, Effy," I moaned. "I need you inside me."

Despite the raging storm of my desire, I took the time to watch her as she entered me, and it nearly killed me. I had never seen her look so happy as when my wetness enclosed her fingers and she began sliding in and out of me. It was humbling, and yet at the same time a massive fucking turn on and my hips thrashed away to their own little dance as I tried to capture more of her within my walls.

So it's just friction, right? The motion of flesh upon flesh. The stimulation of nerve endings designed to send pleasure signals to the brain. So it's just fucking, right? I've done it a thousand times before. Everybody does it. Some people make babies with it. Other people just make orgasms. Some people have to fake them. Some people destroy their lives with it. Other times it's only there to kill the boredom. It's nothing big or fancy or special. It's just a thing we do. C'est juste un truc qu'on fait.

The hell it is. Not now. Not with her. Effy was losing herself in me. I could feel it in every one of her fervent thrusts. I clung onto her back as she forced herself deeper and harder into me. I couldn't control the noises coming out of me, but if I'd had an interpreter, they would have been revealed to be finely crafted love songs in her honour, expressing my complete and total dedication to the cause. They would have been prayers to her magnificence, offering myself as a willing human sacrifice at her hands.

Our eyes locked, and a connection of lightning like energy fizzed between us. This frantic primal clashing of bodies became elevated to a spiritual experience. This could only ever be right. Whatever sins we had committed on our way to this moment simply had to be forgiven if this was to be their outcome. Whatever sins we had yet to confess were surely too insignificant to deflect us from our path. My father's stupid schemes meant nothing. I would have found my way to her anyway. I needed to find her. I needed to have her fuck me so completely, I could finally find my way to love.

My legs were trembling and my heart was pounding as Effy's keen blue eyes watched my reaction to every thrust. I was a long way past reason as my body flipped and bucked and strained beneath her. The sensations she was stirring in me became my whole life. I only had one purpose and that was to come for her, to let her fuck me into utter screaming abandon. I felt a glorious tension begin to spiral outwards from my cunt. That indescribable feeling when you know you're going to come. When even though the violence of your bodies might be rattling the foundations, you feel a sudden and yet intense momentary calm, before everything erupts and shakes you to your core.

Effy caught me in that moment, and it was like looking into the eyes of a wild animal. Not in an 'I am fierce and I'm about to devour you' kind of a way (though she was about to devour me seconds later) but in the sense of two completely different species meeting and somehow finding a way to understand each other.

I remember one time I had been out at some fashion party or another and I'd come home so pissed I actually got the taxi to drop me off at the wrong hotel. I couldn't be arsed trying to find another cab, and my hotel was only down the road, so I decided to walk instead. As I staggered down the street dreaming of being able to kick off the heels I'd been wearing for hours, I was distracted by a sudden noise off to my left. I adopted my fighting stance and peered down the alleyway, unable at first to determine the cause. And that's when I saw him, a beautiful urban fox. At first we were both as startled as each other, but then as we sussed each other out, we both began to relax until we were simply staring at each other not in fear but in fascination. I suddenly felt very privileged that this beautiful, unknowable creature of the night had elected to share this moment with me. Eventually he grew bored, and with one last twitch of his ears, he was off again about his business, but the energy of the encounter followed me round for days.

And that's how it felt with Effy that morning. She too was wild, unknowable and beautiful, but as her eyes penetrated me every bit as deeply as her fingers, I felt like she was allowing me access to places no one else had ever been. That ours was a unique and precious alliance that no one else would ever fully understand. As she hurled my body into a concussively powerful orgasm, it felt like every part of me exploded with it. Effy had taken what I had offered her, and now my shattered pieces were hers to gather as she wished.

"Je t'aime," she informed me, as she placed tens of perfect tiny kisses across my shattered frame.

"Je t'aime aussi," I replied, because out of all of this, that was the fundamental truth. I loved her, with all of my explosive heart.

Was it such a crime? The desire not to spoil the beauty of this perfect moment? It wasn't like I wasn't going to tell her. I would tell her, but I couldn't bear to lose her. I just needed a few days to let us grow a little stronger in our love. Yeah, I'll tell her. I'll tell her in a bit, and it will be OK, because she loves me.

We made it as far as lunchtime having barely uttered a word to each other, but in those few hours so much had been said. Our lips and teeth and tongues had carried all the eloquence we needed. We had communicated flesh to flesh, and a wide and varied conversation had travelled through our pores. Every touch had only confirmed what my body had told me during out first night together. That Effy and I belonged together. That this was the way that things were meant to be, and all our noble attempts at denial had been destined to crumble in the wind.

In some ridiculous way, it felt like I had always been her lover. The way we moved together and the way we settled into each others arms already felt familiar and safe. My brain fast-tracked me several months into the future, and was already picturing scenarios of us living and working together. It was already projecting a future filled with fun, success and happiness stretching onwards for years.

Crazy fucking stalker or what, right?

Most of that day and the next were spent in bed, with Anthea keeping us fed and watered. I can't imagine my mother being so supportive of an international shagathon. I think she likes to pretend the sexual parts of our relationships don't exist, which is a spectacular feat of denial on her part where Emily is concerned. I'm surprised that poor blonde can still manage a catwalk. Anthea's grin, however, seemed to grow wider every time she visited us laden with yet more delicious food and drink. God knows, we needed the energy. Effy was insatiable, and around her I felt insatiable too. If it was even possible I felt like I was falling more in love with her with every kiss. She seemed to become more beautiful with every fabulous fuck, as if she was releasing years of burden and becoming someone new, becoming the woman she was meant to be. I knew I was going to have to make an effort not to try to domesticate her. Not to try to change the very qualities I had fallen for. I had to try to love her, but still give her the freedom she so obviously needed.

She was lying collapsed on my chest after another brutally gorgeous shag, when I attempted to broach the subject of the outside world.

"Do you have any plans today, Babes?" I asked her. "I can't keep you all to myself forever."

"Actually, I do," she said, lifting her head lazily from her favourite place between my breasts.

"Enlighten me," I said, as she stared smirking into my eyes.

She leant down and whispered in my ear.

"I plan to fuck you in the Jacuzzi," she said.

If it is possible to die from too much lust, then I swear this girl is going to kill me.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," I croaked.

Effy slid off me, and grabbed us some towels and a couple of robes before leading me to the top of one of the slides that spiralled round the lobby.

"You seriously expect me to go down that thing?" I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"It's fun," she shrugged. "I'm offering you something beautiful."

Yes you are, you wonderful fucking creature, you're offering me a second chance at life. Without further hesitation, I stepped onto the top of the slide and abandoned myself to gravity. She was right. It was fun. I may have shrieked like a girl on my way down, but when I reached the bottom, I just wanted to run back up the stairs and do it again. Effy came sliding down just after me, looking exceptionally pleased with the massive grin on my face.

"Just wait till you try the one from the top floor," she laughed. "That one rocks."

"Can we do it?" I asked her, consumed by my new-found enthusiasm for play.

"Jacuzzi sex first, slides later," she declared, and who was I to argue with her logic?

The jacuzzi was situated on a corner of the ground floor terrace, and whilst Effy busied herself switching it on and messing with the settings, I casually wandered over to the edge. There were no railings or anything so what I was expecting was a step down to another level, but when I peered over I saw nothing but the steep rocks of the gorge plummeting away below me, and my head began to swim.

"Jesus H Fucking What The Fuck Christ!" I yelled as I leapt backwards from the edge.

"What's up?" asked Effy casually.

"Someone would fucking kill themselves if they fell off there!" I exclaimed.

"They would," she smirked. "Which is why we try not to fall off there."

"Shouldn't there be like a safety rail or something?" I asked, now having backed myself right back up against the doors.

"Sans risque la vie n'est rien," was her reply.

"Isn't that like against the law or something?" I insisted.

"Anthea doesn't care much for the law," laughed Effy. "In her public work, she is meticulous about safety because she has to be, but in her own private space she believes she should have the right to do whatever she likes. I guess it's in our blood. Tony works in earthquake zones, and I work with dangerous explosives. We're not exactly risk-averse, are we?"

Sometimes it's easy to forget exactly how dangerous some of the bigger pyros are. Like anything, it's what you know I suppose. Once your mind has calculated those risks for you, you don't have to keep recalculating them. I'm quite happy standing in a shell site in the middle of enough gunpowder to blow my fucking leg off, but that unprotected drop was still freaking me out.

"There is a safety barrier," said Effy, " but we only ever put it up if we're having a party or we've got guests."

"Am I not a guest?" I said indignantly.

"No," replied Effy, walking right over to the very edge.

She turned and held out her hand to me.

"You're family," she smiled.

I started to walk towards her. What else could I do? She was offering me something beautiful. I had to force myself to go the last metre or so, but finally I ended up in her arms.

"I've got you," she said softly. "We're not going to fall."

She leaned in to kiss me.

"I can't," I said nervously. "I'm scared."

"Just close your eyes, it will be fine," she promised me.

"I can't close my eyes," I protested. "What if we fall?"

"We're not going to lurch off sideways just because we close our eyes," smiled Effy. Our other senses will protect us."

She leaned in again, and this time I let her take my lips. The sensation was so gorgeous, that I let my eyes drift closed instinctively. Wrapped in Effy's arms, with her tongue playing gently against mine, I began to let go of the fear and let the thrill of it wash over me instead. We carried on kissing for several minutes, and no unexpected harm befell us. I felt a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I felt free. I opened my eyes and pulled away from her. Taking her hand I turned us till we were standing with our toes right up against the edge. I stared happily down into the splendid abyss below. She was right. I had taken some of the biggest risks of my life for Effy, and because of her my heart was bursting with life.

"Cette vie, c'est quelque chose, non?" I said.

"Je pense que je commence enfin à vivre," she replied.

We looked at each other, and a deep dark desire flashed between our eyes. In a moment of pure complicité, we both retreated from the edge, flinging off our robes and jumping into the jacuzzi. For a while we did nothing more than lark about, splashing each other and trying to dunk each other beneath the foaming bubbles, but it wasn't long before the sight of a naked, wet Effy provoked its natural reactions, and I grabbed her arm and pulled her down until she was straddling me as I sat on the underwater seats round the edge.

"Merde, je t'aime comme une folle," she exclaimed with her arms wrapped round my neck, and her wet hair falling around her face. It was too much for me, I grabbed her bum and pulled her hard against me, delighting in the gasp it caused her to emit. Our mouths flew together like crashing stars and we consumed each other with a cosmological fervour. The bubbles buffeted my back as I grabbed handfuls of that gorgeous hair and flung myself without regret in to deeper and deeper kisses. I could feel Effy moving above me, her thighs clenching around my own as she ground down on me. After repressing my desire for her for so long, I was not very good at holding back. I slid one strong arm around her back, and with the other I began roughly grasping at her breasts. Fuck me, they felt good in my hands. Effy gasped and moaned into my mouth as I touched her, and she was turning me into a raging beast. She was showering me with open-mouthed kisses as both my hands travelled down towards her thighs. I began to massage her muscles, which were taut with effort from thrusting against me. I had relay teams of shivers running riot on my spine, both from the sensation of the bubbles being fired into my back, and from the way Effy was making me feel. This was a fabulously sloppy, reckless kind of lovemaking. Neither of us were trying to impress the other with our skills. We were too caught up in the moment, too caught up in each other, too caught up in the rush to worry about anything like that. This was where the boundaries between lust and love disintegrated. This was love without the safety barrier, and it was fucking epic.

I used my hands to push her legs apart, and then entered her swiftly afterwards. She became even more deliciously careless, thrusting down onto my fingers and releasing a cornucopia of 'putain' themed curses as the friction sent her higher. It was pretty safe to say that Effy loved sex. Her body made its own demands and she followed it willingly. It was one of the reasons that made her so fucking addictive. Watching the pleasure she drew from my actions was a release in itself. She was riding my hand with complete abandon, her head thrown back and her back arched hard against me. Oh God she was so fucking beautiful. In amongst the heavy breathing and the curses, I thought I heard something that sounded like "I'm going to play," but I wasn't sure. Fuck, I'm going to have to learn more French. But I didn't have much time to worry about it, as her blue eyes grabbed mine like they were tractor beams and I knew she was going to come.

I kept pushing into her as I felt her begin to climax. Oh fuck, the sounds she was making were ripping me apart. She was out of control. She was magnificent as she orgasmed brilliantly above me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was fucking shining, she was so radiant. This Free Effy was the most beautiful phenomenon I had ever witnessed. I felt like I was present at the birth of a fucking universe or something. The power exploding out of her was annihilatingly brilliant, as blindingly beautiful as an atom bomb. As she took my humble gift of love and turned it into something majestic, she was the only thing that I could see.

I certainly didn't notice the figure that had appeared behind us on the balcony. The figure that crept up on us and spied on our moment of glory. It was Effy who noticed him first, falling down from her high whilst I was still blinded by her.

"Qu'est que tu fais ici?" she said dreamily, and I realised she wasn't talking to me.

I span around to see my lover's ex-boyfriend staring helplessly at us.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, as I sank down under the water to hide my body from his view, completely at a loss as to how to handle this situation. I felt a momentary flash of empathy. It can't have been easy for him to see what he'd just seen. I remembered the pain of discovering Anna with Anton, and I was shaken by tremors of powerful guilt.

Effy, however seemed to have no such problems, and she climbed out of the tub to face him, naked and completely unashamed.

"Pauvre Freddie, toujours trois pas derrière," a new voice joined the encounter.

It was Anthea, leaning smirking against the doorway. I was sure the crafty old fox had led Freddie deliberately to his doom. Her words shocked him out of his stupor and he and Effy began arguing where they stood. Despite being naked, Effy was far from vulnerable, holding her own against anything he threw at her. What the fuck was I to do? Just sit here hiding in a sodding Jacuzzi whilst they dissected their relationship? There was only one thing for it. I took a deep breath and hauled myself out of the water. I watched Freddie's eyes rake involuntarily over my body, he was only human after all, but I bluffed it out and marched right up to the pair of them. I pulled Effy towards me and gave her a brief but loving kiss.

"I know you're capable of fighting your own battles, Babes, so I'm not going to interfere," I said through a veneer of calm. "But Freddie, if you hurt her I will personally throw you off this fucking cliff."

I heard Anthea laughing as I went to rescue my robe and my modesty.

"Celle-ci," she said. "Je l'aime bien. Garde celle-ci."

I had to physically drag her away from the argument, which she appeared to be viewing as some kind of spectator sport. As soon as I got her into the kitchen, she went straight to the fridge and cracked us open a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux. Effy and Freddie had started yelling at each other and their voices drifted across the lobby. Anthea started laughing again at something Effy had said, that I hadn't quite caught the meaning of.

"He hates that," Anthea smirked, once she had settled down. "When she gets really pissed off with him, she starts arguing in French, and he doesn't have a clue what she's saying."

"Well he should learn," I said without thinking.

I had never seen Effy and Freddie argue before, and I was still taking in the information that this was not a new occurrence.

"Bit late for that I think," grinned Anthea.

"Well, I shall have to make the effort to study hard for when she yells at me," I replied.

"Now that's something I'd love to see," she said with an evil grin. "Not that I want you girls to fight, but you have to admit it would be a hell of a match."

"You don't even know me," I said.

"I know what you can do," replied Anthea.

"What can I do?"

"She was different when she came back to me this time," replied Anthea, suddenly serious. "It was obvious that something was wrong, but it was also clear that something was very, very right. And it would appear that something is you. Effy's always been strong enough to illuminate the darkness she carries round with her, I just don't think she's ever realised it. But I think you can light her fire. I think you can make her shine."

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La Francais…

1. C'est juste un truc qu'on fait. – It's just a thing that we do.

2. "Sans risque la vie n'est rien," – Without risk, life is nothing.

3. "Cette vie, c'est quelque chose, non?" – This life, it's something, right?

4. "Je pense que je commence enfin à vivre," – I think that I am finally beginning to live.

5. "Merde, je t'aime comme une folle," – Shit, I love you like a madwoman.

6. "Qu'est que tu fais ici?" – what are you doing here?

7. "Pauvre Freddie, toujours trois pas derrière," – Poor Freddie, always three steps behind

8. "Celle-ci," she said. "Je l'aime bien. Garde celle-ci." – "This one," she said. "I like her. Keep this one."


	21. Sunrise

21. Sunrise

Effy

I could see the sun. I was standing on the edge of Anthea's precipice with my face turned up towards the sky. There was no darkness, no fog of drugs to cloud my vision, and the reason was right next to me, sitting with her legs dangling over the drop. I remember how scared she had been just a few short days ago when she had first encountered my mother's voluntary death-trap. And yet now here she was, dicing with gravity with all the confidence of the mountain goats that roamed the cliffs along the gorge. She looked so peaceful and harmless sat there basking in the sunshine, but in reality she had blown my fucking life apart. I loved her, I really did. I knew that now, and what's more I was no longer afraid of revealing it. The past few days had been something akin to paradise. Waking up next to the sweet warmth of her perfect body. Tasting the delights of her flesh. Spending hours just talking to her. Feeling free enough to talk about anything, even the darkness, without the need to censor my thoughts. She let me talk about my past, she let me talk about Freddie, she let me talk about my pain. I don't think I had ever talked to someone so much in my whole life, and yet the more I did it, the more I felt this wonderful sense of release.

Anthea adored her. She kept taking us out on trips to remote little restaurants or gorgeous little villages, taking pride and delight every time she managed to wow my lover with the wonderfulness of France. It was quite easy to do. Where we lived was quite simply one of the most stunning places on earth, but in some ways I felt like I was seeing it for the first time too. Really seeing it with open eyes and an open heart, with an innocence and delight I had lost far too quickly as a child. She had given me that, my wonderful Katie, she had given me my country back, and I would never forget her for that. We went back to look at the Millau Viaduct, my mother overcoming her natural resentment that the contract had been given to an English firm, and throwing herself into giving Katie a layman's explanation of the engineering. And as I stood there admiring the cleanliness of the lines of the supporting towers, and the vast curve of the bridge across the valley, I realised that something had fundamentally changed inside me. I had always been able to aesthetically appreciate the beauty of things, but that was all it had been. Je n'avais jamais été capable de _resentir_ cette beauté, elle ne m'avait jamais émue. I had always remained detached somehow. The one exception had been pyro, which is why I had clung so determinedly to the task of achieving my dream, even through the hardest of times. But Katie had unlocked something in my brain, and now I was feeling everything.

It would have been overwhelming but for her calm and loving presence beside me. If it all became too much for me I could always find her arms and bury myself in her for a while, and everything would be alright. I loved losing myself in her, which was a good thing because I had no protection against her, no way of resetting the barriers to my heart. But that was ok, because when I looked into her beautiful brown eyes I saw nothing but life-sustaining warmth and love. Well almost nothing. Quelques-fois je surprenais une trace de tristesse, une nuance de retrait, un goût de quelque-chose qu'elle était encore réticente à révéler. But I trusted her. Whatever it was could wait. I knew she was still confused about her feelings for Anna, but pulling a green-eyed monster about it wasn't going to help me. Anna was competition without a doubt, but Katie had chosen me, and just like I had explained to Freddie having been chosen once was not enough. I had to put the work in to make sure I remained the one that she wanted. This gift that she had given me was far to precious to be taken for granted, and if I had to fight for her then I would. Je serai celle qui vaincra cette tristesse pour de bon.

I swept one last long luxurious gaze across the gorge, drinking in every last detail, before dropping to my knees beside her. As soon as I had caught her attention, I put both hands upon her shoulders, and swung one leg over so that I was straddling her thighs. I saw her eyes widen in alarm a little as she realised how perilously close to the edge I was, but to her credit, she merely slipped her hands around my back and shifted her weight a little further back towards safety. I kissed her deeply and passionately, and I felt her respond almost immediately, opening her mouth to let me in. I let myself revel in the luxury that life had seen fit to allow me in this moment, in the heat of the sun and the love of this most extraordinary of women. Fuck, I even believed that I deserved it all, the simple pleasure of extensive snogging, the smells of Anthea working her magic in the kitchen and the courage to allow myself to be loved. It was perfect.

Mon coeur égoïste voulait que ce moment dure pour toujours. And it would be simple enough to make it so. To run away from everything and start again. To create our own little bubble of love and keep out the rest of the sordid world forever. We could live in this fantastical house, which still felt so much like home to me. I knew Anthea would look after us until we got ourselves on our feet. Katie was smart, and even after a few days her French was improving rapidly. The easy thing to do would be just to leave all our messes behind us, forget about the world that held Freddie and Anna and create a new magic kingdom full of kittens and rainbows and the finest wines known to humanity.

It was a powerful temptation, but deep down in my newly active heart, I knew that it was wrong. If there was one thing Katie had given me, it was courage. Le courage de faire face à ma maladie, le courage d'affronter mes démons au lieu de me cacher, le courage de briser le coeur d'un homme au lieu de continuer dans le mensonge. After everything she had done for me, it would be stupid and unfair of me just to find a new hiding place. And I knew she would be horrified at the thought of me giving up my dream for her. And there were the boys too, my beautiful boys who had put so much of their faith in me. I knew Cook and Thomas would be worrying about me, and worrying about their own futures after everything that had transpired. Even Freddie, though I'm not sure he would forgive me for a while. He and I had so much more than just our sexual relationship at stake. I had to go back for all their sakes. I had to try and save the company. I had to go back and face the things I had done. But I needed her to be with me.

I reluctantly withdrew from the paradise of kissing Katie and let out a heavy sigh.

"What's up, Babes?" she asked, stroking my cheek whilst keeping a safe grip on my back with her other hand.

I couldn't help but smile at her delicate level of care, but my mind soon refilled with serious thoughts.

"We have to go back," I said softly.

Katie was silent for a moment, but then she nodded her head gently.

"I know," she replied.

"I have to try to calm the chaos," I said.

She took both of my hands and squeezed them gently.

"I'll be with you," she assured me.

"How come you're so fucking perfect?" I asked her.

"Oh, I'm far from fucking perfect," she laughed. "Something I'm sure you'll be finding out for yourself soon enough."

"You are amazing though," I insisted.

"I'll take that," she smiled her breathtaking smile. "And I wanna be there for you. Whatever you need.'"

"I need you," I said, without any hesitation.

"Well that I can certainly do," she replied, kissing me deeply again.

I could feel myself falling into her again. Je sentais le désir commencer à se lover en moi comme un serpent. I could feel the lust spinning out through my veins and filling my head with fantasies of taking her right there and then on the edge of the cliff. And maybe I would later, but now was not the time. I pulled out of the kiss, and carefully negotiated my way off her lap until I was sitting beside her. I felt her hand sneak over and close on top of mine. It was the smallest of gestures, but even in amongst all this grand passion it had the power to make my heart explode.

"When do you want to leave?" she asked.

"Would tomorrow be ok?" I asked. "I just want to have one last beautiful night here."

"That sounds wonderful," she smiled. "And we'll come back, yeah?"

"Oh I think so," I smirked. "I think my mother's filling out the adoption papers right now."

"Jesus, that's got to be worth it for the cooking skills alone," laughed Katie.

"Your Mum, not much of a chef then?" I asked her.

I realised that although I had talked to her almost more than anyone else about my family, I still knew practically nothing about hers.

"Not much," shrugged Katie, and I sensed her shutting down on me again. Maybe I had been wrong about Anna, maybe her sadness had something to do with her family. Despite my better judgement, I couldn't resist digging a little further.

"How did your parents react to you being with Anna?" I asked her.

"Not exactly overjoyed," she replied, staring out into the gorge.

I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed it softly.

"Well I shall just have to win them over with my Gallic charm," I said.

Katie continued staring out ahead of her. She looked like she was struggling with something, but in the end she merely repeated my gesture and kissed my hand.

"I love you, Effy," she told me, and I believed her.

C'est exactement ça qui m'a convaincue dans le silence qui suivit de la laisser garder ses secrets pour l'instant. I had never been too bothered about the intricacies of other people's lives before. Katie's intrigued me, but not enough to spoil the moment. When she spoke again, it was to completely change the subject.

"Do you ever get the urge to jump?" she asked me.

My fingers involuntarily tightened around hers, just in case she was feeling the same urge. It would seem this protective instinct worked both ways.

"I just wondered," she said. "You know, when you're feeling down. Does it ever get that bad?"

"When I first came back from England I was a total mess," I admitted. "I used to come out here a lot and stare into the abyss. Anthea kept the safety barrier up at first. But after a couple of weeks she took it down, and if she found me out here, she would just come out and stand next to me. She didn't need to say anything, I knew exactly what she was telling me. I could wallow in this shit or I could face it. She was telling me that she didn't hold with this angsty teenage death fixation crap and if that was all it was, she wasn't going to indulge it. And with the barrier down it was easier for me to see that there wasn't anything remotely glamorous or romantic about the darkness, or about drinking myself into a stupor or fucking myself up with drugs. I wasn't cool and mysterious just like everyone had told me, I was just a fucked up little kid. It didn't stop those feelings but it helped me to rationalise them and to try to find a way to control them instead of letting them rule my life. I don't think she was too pleased about the solution I came up with though."

"Freddie?" asked Katie.

"She never really liked him," I admitted. "I think she saw the same things in our relationship that you did, that he was just another form of anaesthetic."

"So how are you feeling about the darkness now?" she asked me.

"What darkness?" I smirked back at her.

"Effy," said Katie tolerantly. "You can't just gloss over it, you know."

"I know," I conceded. "But things feel different now. I know I can't just use you as another crutch, but somehow it feels like the pressure is easing. Just being able to talk about it without people freaking out is a start."

"Well as long as you keep talking to me, Babes," she answered, all trace of her inner sadness dismissed. "We'll find a way to work it out. A way that doesn't crush you."

It was a promise. Une promesse que ce qu'on avait durerait. And sat there on the brink of the precipice, I felt the safest I had ever been. I turned to face her and looked once again onto those magnificent brown eyes. I was powerless to smile that burst from ear to ear across my face. I could see the sun.

.

.

.

I could still feel its warmth through the darkness one night later, as Katie and I stood hand in hand in the driveway of the barn. We hadn't told anyone we were coming back. I had wanted to face some honest reactions instead of anything premeditated, and I still wasn't sure of what I would find. Katie had let me smoke two fags whilst we were stood out here, but I could sense her growing impatience to get the job done. It was one of the things I most admired about her. She never backed away from anything, and it felt good to have her by my side. It reminded me of exactly why I had made the choices that I did, and now it was time to take responsibility for those choices whatever consequences they might have.

I should have guessed the first reaction that I found. Cook dropped his tools and leapt across the workshop, snatching me from the ground and twirling me round and round.

"Effykins!" he shouted enthusiastically. "Thank fuck you're back. I fucking missed you, girl."

His tone implied the doubts he'd been carrying that I would ever come back at all and his relief was obvious. I should have known that Cook would stand by me, he and I were bound together for life. After we had done fucking each other, he had become a sound replacement for my absentee brother and our transformed love for each other ran deep. If anybody knew about the weaknesses of the flesh it was Cook, and I already knew of his affection for Katie.

"Are we good?" I asked him quietly, once he had deigned to return me to earth.

"We're always good," he said, and kissed me full on the mouth.

My immediate reaction was to turn back round to Katie, but she was smirking at us, and soon greeted Cook with a full on kiss of her own.

"Get in there, Katiekins, ya dirty bitch," he winked at her. "What do you reckon, eh?"

"No you can't watch," she said punching him on the shoulder. "And no, I am not going to give you details."

"After all I've done for ya," sighed Cook dramatically, and I realised I had a hell of a lot to thank him for. Maybe I owed him a bit of dirty lad's banter in exchange.

"Well you've fucked both of them, why don't you just use your imagination," came a bitter voice from behind us.

"Freddie," I said turning to face him, taking on the moment I had been dreading.

"Bit of warning would have been nice," he grumbled.

He looked terrible. His eyes were red, and he looked like he had been wearing the same clothes for days. He was clearly stoned out of his box, and looked like he had lost weight. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had been listening to country music. I looked over his shoulder into Cook's den from where he had emerged and noticed it was littered with beer cans and stank of smoke.

"I'm sorry," I said, somewhat pathetically.

"Sorry for what?" he stared me down.

"I'm sorry I fell out of love with you," I said.

"You never were in love with me," he argued. "I just let myself believe that you were."

"I did care about you," I protested. "I do."

"Like a brother," he spat. "Just like the rest of your boys. Like the rest of the idiots who fawn over you, in hope of any scraps of affection you deign to throw their way."

"That's not fair," interrupted Katie, and I noticed Cook slip a friendly but firm arm around her shoulders in case he needed to hold her back. "Effy tried really hard to make things work for you guys."

"Not hard enough, sweetheart," retorted Freddie. "And why would she? Now that she's discovered 'the real thing'?"

His tone was laced with contempt and my heart burned with the fact that I had done this to him. But it was like all the fight had gone out of him. I knew that the scene that he had witnessed in France would have devastated him, not even so much for the fact that he had seen me fucking someone else, but the way I was fucking her. Il aurait su que je ne m'étais jamais donnée à lui comme ça. It would have been like a harsh spotlight shining down on the mediocrity of our years together, and in that moment I felt more guilty about allowing us to happen in the first place than I did about ending it.

"Anyway, I've put your stuff in the spare room," he said, before turning and retreating back into the den.

"He's been practically living in there," said Cook in hushed tones. "I don't think he likes being in your bed."

"This is fucking horrible," I said running my hand through my hair.

"Yes, it is," admitted Cook. "But it was always going to be. You and Katie had to do what you were going to do, and it was always going to affect us. But at least he's still here. And at least he's still accepting that you're going to be here too. It's hit him hard, but I think he still believes in us."

"I don't want this to break up the team," I said.

"It won't," asserted Cook. "Four musketeers, remember?"

"Do you think we'll be alright?" I asked him.

"Course we will," said Cook with his usual brash confidence. "We survived you fucking off to France all them years, didn't we?"

"So what does that make me, Milady de Winter?" said Katie, causing Cook to laugh out loud.

"I'm sure you're not some evil spy, using your beauty to destroy us," he grinned. "I didn't notice any fleur de lys tattoos, did you Eff?"

"No, but I could always check again," I smirked.

"We should check on your stuff," said Katie. "Where's this spare room?"

"Up next to Thomas's studio," I replied. "I suppose I should go and look at my new home."

It was the one room in the barn we hadn't really done up. We hadn't had much need to until now. But I was certainly glad of its presence. There was no way I could have brought Katie to the room I had once shared with Freddie. I need to cleanse myself of that and start again. Au moins comme ça on avait une chance de sauver ce qu'il restait de notre famille. Instinctively my hand found Katie's and I led her up the stairs. The sight that greeted us when we opened the door was one of complete chaos. All of my clothes and my personal items had been thrown unceremoniously in to a pile in the middle of the room. My whole life in an awkward tangled heap at my feet. I stood there feeling tired and lost until I felt Katie's arms close around my waist and I abandoned myself once more into her comfort.

"We'll sort it out, Babes," she reassured me, and I felt grateful that in the reckless abandon of my grand passion I had had the good fortune to find myself such a champion.

"It needs a little bit of work, no?" came a gentle voice from behind us.

Thomas. The last remaining corner of the jigsaw. If Cook and Freddie's reactions had been predictable enough, Thomas was in some ways the one that I had feared the most. He was a man of honour, and I was scared he would not be able to forgive me for betraying Freds. Katie loosened her grip on me, but she kept in close contact, offering me a silent back up. But my concerns proved unfounded as Thomas approached and offered me his arms for an embrace. I took his offer gratefully, throwing myself against his strong body.

"I'm sorry," I said for the second time that night.

"C'est dur l'amour, hein?" he said.

"C'est une sorte de folie," I smiled.

"Mais une belle folie," he replied.

"Please don't leave me Thomas," I pleaded honestly.

"I could never do that, Effy," he replied. "That night you found me beaten and bloody and took me in, you became a part of me. I want you to be happy, and if Katie is what makes you happy, then she becomes a part of me too."

It was enough. It was enough for that night. I knew my boys were still with me, but I was tired from the journey and the stress. I let Katie take me back to her place that night, and I let her make love to me tenderly. The rebuilding would start tomorrow, and I knew there would be harsh times ahead, but for now it was enough to take comfort in my lover's arms and have hope in the faith that had been shown in me. Tomorrow the sun would rise again, and I could trust that she would penetrate the darkness.

.

.

Some beautiful French Interpretations by Blueeyedfrog02

1. Je n'avais jamais été capable de _resentir_ cette beauté, elle ne m'avait jamais émue. - I had never been able to _feel_ that beauty, I had never been moved by it.

2. Quelques-fois je surprenais une trace de tristesse, une nuance de retrait, un goût de quelque-chose qu'elle était encore réticente à révéler. - Sometimes I caught a hint of something sad and guarded, a taste of something yet to be revealed.

3. Je serai celle qui vaincra cette tristesse pour de bon. - I would be the one to take away that sadness for good.

4. Mon coeur égoïste voulait que ce moment dure pour toujours. - My selfish heart wanted this moment to last forever.

5. Le courage de faire face à ma maladie, le courage d'affronter mes démons au lieu de me cacher, le courage de briser le coeur d'un homme au lieu de continuer dans le mensonge. - Courage to face up to my illness, courage to stop hiding, courage to break a man's heart rather than keep living a lie.

6. Je sentais le désir commencer à se lover en moi comme un serpent. - I could feel the desire rising up in me like a dancing snake.

7. C'est exactement ça qui m'a convaincue dans le silence qui suivit de la laisser garder ses secrets pour l'instant. - It was that which convinced me in the silence that followed to allow her to keep her secrets for now.

8. Une promesse que ce qu'on avait durerait. - A promise that this would last.

9. Il aurait su que je ne m'étais jamais donnée à lui comme ça. - He would have known I had never truly given myself to him like that.

10. Au moins comme ça on avait une chance de sauver ce qu'il restait de notre famille. - At least this way we had a chance to salvage what was left of our family.

11. "C'est dur l'amour, hein?" - "Love is difficult, is it not?"

12. "C'est une sorte de folie." - "It's a certain kind of madness,"

13. "Mais une belle folie." - "A beautiful kind of madness,"


	22. A Fragile Paradise

**So. Apologies for the aching chasms of time between updates on this story, but I'm running four shows at Edinburgh Festival and it's pretty damn tiring. But all of that pales into insignificance with the news that SJ is finally going to be getting out of hospital! So you know what to do people. Be sending lots of those vibes to help her make the final step. This is for you, beautiful..**

**Anyway I'm very sleepy at the moment so if there are mistakes in this, you will just have to find them charming…**

22. A Fragile Paradise

Katie

Do you lie to someone because you love them or in spite of it? I love her, I love her, it's like shouting from the rooftops kind of love. Jesus, I am bathing in emotion like it's milk and honey. I have found Nirvana, the Holy Fucking Grail, and it's so easy to get lost in Paradise. I am a woman who loves luxury and I could wallow in the opulence of Effy for the rest of my days. But for one small point of order… I was still lying to her every day.

Well perhaps not down right lying, but what was it that politician once said? Oh yeah, I was being economical with the truth. We had been back a month and it was the height of summer. Effy and I were locked in some kind of heady honeymoon. I had never seen her smile so much, and I loved that I was the cause of that. I knew that to reveal myself would hurt her, and the thought of hurting her was simply impossible to consider. I simply couldn't do that to the woman I love.

And so I pushed away the guilt and continued to lavish attention on her, and we filled the humid nights with sex and laughter. I knew this shit would come back to bite me one day, but my foolish heart kept pushing back the deadline. I'll tell her once she settles into her new room. I'll tell her once Freddie calms down a bit. I'll tell her once she's started on her therapy. But all of these occasions came and went and still my traitorous mouth remained resolutely shut.

We had painted Effy's room together and gradually made it into a space that was exclusively hers. And even though it was clear that he still didn't like me, Freddie had stopped kicking up such a fuss, even allowing me to stay over at the barn without whining. Effy had started seeing a counsellor, and even though it was going slowly, she was helping her to develop strategies to deal with her illness, which didn't include getting shitfaced. On the surface everything seemed happy and shiny and beautiful.

But it was all so fragile. This delicate web of happiness I had been weaving could be swept aside at any moment, and the consequences of that reached far beyond just mine and Effy's relationship. Le Coeur Explosif's reputation had been growing, and more and more bookings had been coming in, including a massive November the Fifth show in a park in Brighton. I didn't want to be responsible for blowing the unit apart. Effy, Cook, Thomas, I loved them all and even I could recognise Freddie's importance to the group. So was I lying to deceive them, or to protect them? Sometimes I didn't even know myself any more. Sometimes I felt I liked myself a lot better as Katie Ford than I ever had as Katie Fitch.

But the problem with a lie is that it has a tendency to grow. Unless you pull it out cleanly by the roots, it will keep spreading underground until your whole damn life becomes infested. Not only did I keep fobbing my parents off about my so-called mission to discover the secrets of Le Coeur, I never told them where I kept disappearing to at night. Nor who was putting such a smile upon my face.

Effy might well be my lover, and the keeper of my heart, but Rob and Jenna were the ones who had raised me and looked after me all these years. But in spite of that, I committed the ultimate betrayal when my old boss Damian from my days on the photoshoots rang me out of the blue.

"Katie Fucking Fitch, how the hell are you?" he greeted me enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I'm good thanks," I replied, still a little stunned at hearing from him at all.

"Great, great," he said with the somewhat insincere excitement I had forgotten used to be part of my everyday world.

"So Damian, what can I do for you?" I asked, knowing that there was no way on earth this could be a purely social call.

"Yeah well right," he said. "So we're doing the launch for Stella's new autumn collection at some big country house in Buckinghamshire. I know, exciting right?"

"Wow, that's amazing," I gushed, feeding him what he wanted to hear.

"Yeah, so there's these massive grounds and a gorgeous lake and stuff, and Stella wanted some cool fireworks to finish off with. And I thought, why not ask my old friend Katie. I know you've got connections in the business, and we only want the best for Stella, right?"

I held my breath for a second whilst the thoughts flashed across my mind, and my loyalties were yanked at from both sides. I knew I should offer it to Dad, but a gig like that could really put Le Coeur on the map.

"Katie?" queried Damian when I didn't reply.

"Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking," I told him. "There's this new outfit on the scene, but trust me when I tell you that they are seriously fucking good."

"Sounds interesting," said Damian.

"They're called Le Coeur Explosif. They're young, they're edgy. I think they'd be perfect for you. Remember Allesandro's show in Paris?"

"How could I ever forget?" laughed Damian nervously.

"Well Effy, their designer was the pyrotechnician on that show. She trained with Thierry," I said, throwing in the line that was guaranteed to send a non-pyro person's mind spinning.

"Great, well do you have their number?" he asked.

"There's one condition," I said. "I don't want her to know that it was me that recommended her."

"Why not?" asked Damian. I could almost hear him frowning down the phone.

"Because," I said cautiously. "She's my girlfriend, but she's very independent and I don't want her to think she's just getting work because of my contacts."

"Oh," said Damian, sounding stunned by this information.

"What?" I challenged him. "Is there some kind of problem with that?"

"No, I…um," he stammered. "It's just…."

Suddenly the fucking penny dropped.

"Jesus Christ," I spat. "Is this another one of Anna's set-ups? I know the two of you are thick as thieves. Do you actually even want any sodding pyro?"

"No, yeah we do," spluttered Damian.

"But it was Anna's idea to phone me, right?"

"She might have suggested you, yeah," he admitted.

"Well I won't be going," I asserted. "I'm with someone else now. She needs to move on."

"Yeah well, I'm not going to be the one to tell her that," he said.

"Fair enough," I laughed. Anna was a force of nature, and not to be messed with.

"So your girl, Effy is it?" he asked. "Is she what we're looking for?"

"Seriously?" I said. "She's the best. Check out their website, see for yourself. But remember, not a word about me to either of them."

"How do you do it?" he laughed. "I wish I had your way with the ladies, Katie."

"Yeah well, do this for me and maybe I'll give you a few tips," I said.

Of course, all the gang were thrilled when the enquiry came through, and Damian was true to his word and kept me out of it. But nothing ever stays fucking simple does it? My sister was on one of her rare visits back home to Bristol, and she had invited me to lunch, no doubt so she could spend the afternoon holding forth about how fucking awesome certain blonde supermodels were. But what the hell, I hadn't seen her in ages and I missed the horny little lezza. We met up in our favourite café in Montpelier, a place we'd been going to since our teens. It was a lovely little place and the food was out of this world. As soon as I walked in the door and smelt the gorgeous aromas permeating the air, I felt a twinge of regret that I had never brought Effy here.

But it was too risky. I had too much history with the place. The owners knew me by name, and those of our teenage friends who hadn't made it out of Bristol all still came down here. I guess I was lucky that a lot of the people from my past had gone off to University and never really come home again. I guess I could also be thankful that most of mine and Effy's social life since we got together had consisted of staying at home and shagging each other's brains out. Not just for the obvious reason that she was spectacular in bed, but Bristol was a small city whose social circles were tight and well connected. When we did go out, I spent half my time looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't about to be ambushed by some well-meaning friend. I felt like I was walking on a tightrope, but that at any moment someone could undo the fixings and I would plummet to my doom.

I sat down and ordered a vanilla latte whilst I waited for Emily. She was bound to be late. It was one of the things that always irritated me about her. I would always call her out on it, but she would claim that her artistic mind had more important things to think about than the minutiae of human interaction with a cosmological phenomenon, or some such bullshit. I guess that's why she ended up creating shit, and I just ended up organising it.

It was a good thing I'd grabbed a banana on the way out, cause the bitch would have had me starve to death by the time she bothered showing up. In spite of that, I couldn't help but break into a massive grin when I saw her little face appearing through the door. My face fell a little when I realised she had the aforementioned blonde supermodel in tow. I had been looking forward to a little quality sister time.

"Are you two joined at the hip, or what?" I said scathingly.

"I think you'll find we're joined a lot more closely than that," smirked Emily smuttily.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"I told you I should have left you to it," muttered Naomi grumpily.

"Nonsense," said Emily breezily. "You're part of the family now."

"No, you're fine," I assured her.

Despite myself I had entertained a growing affection for the blonde, not least because her love for my little sis seemed lasting and genuine.

"Let's grab some grub then," said Emily enthusiastically. "I'm starving."

No surprises there then. I watched Naomi gazing at her adoringly as she nibbled at a salad whilst Emily demolished a mountain of healthy fare.

"You're so whipped," I teased her when Emily had nipped off to the loo.

"I can't help it," she admitted. "I love the way she eats. I love her whole relationship with food. You have no idea how refreshing it is when you spend most of your time around models."

"Tell me about it," I smiled. "I spent years with them drooling enviously every time I put away a bacon sarnie."

She smiled at me with genuine warmth.

"It must be hell to have to be professionally thin," I said.

"It's no picnic," she replied. "And no dinner, and no lunch!"

"I don't think I could do it," I said.

"But you're beautiful the way you are," she answered. "You have a real woman's body. Like Emily….."

The thought of Emily's body sent her away to the happy place and I sniggered at her mercilessly.

"What's going on?" asked Emily, returning to the table.

"She's so in love with you," I grinned.

"I know," said Emily warmly, kissing her girlfriend on the top of her head. "It's a beautiful thing."

"Do you ever fight?" I asked them.

They looked at each other before shrugging.

"Not really," said Emily.

"We don't really have anything to fight about," added Naomi.

"I guess the fact that we both have a lot on means that we're grateful for the time we do have together," said Ems.

"Plus I trust her," said Naomi. "She tells me everything that's going on in that gorgeous head of hers."

"Yeah, all that nonsense" giggled Emily. "I don't know how you put up with me."

"All that genius, you mean," insisted Naomi, looking like she was about to descend into a full-on gush fest.

"Oh please," I said sarcastically. "I've just eaten a really nice lunch. I don't really want to be puking it all up again cause of you two…"

The pair of them laughed, but still managed to look disgustingly adorable. They laughed because my faux bitterness was a classic response, part of a well-oiled Katie Fitch persona. But really I was jealous of them. I envied the simplicity of them. They met, they kissed, they shagged, they fell in love. Their coming together was painless, and they had no dark secrets to haunt them. They didn't have to hide from their family and their friends, and they never had to struggle to remember who the fuck they were supposed to be at any given moment of the day.

I dug myself in deeper when I encouraged them to tell me what they'd been up to in order to distract myself from my dilemmas. I then had to listen to them going on about their perfect fucking life as well as their perfect fucking love. Emily was in talks about directing her first feature, and Naomi had just graced the cover of American Vogue. They'd just had the kitchen re-done in the Camden flat, and they were planning some swanky holiday in the Caribbean together. In the end I had to beg them to stop before I acted on the urge to smash my head repeatedly on the table.

"So how about you, Katie?" asked Emily. "What's going on with you?"

"Same shit, different day," I retorted, using the cliché to disguise the festering drama. It was then that I spotted the mischievous sparkle in Naomi Diamond's eye.

"Well that sounds like you could do with something to cheer you up," she said.

"Sounds like you have something in mind, Campbell," I said.

She both loved it and hated it when I used her original name.

"How about a fantastically opulent but freakishly badass party?" she grinned.

"Go on…" I encouraged.

"Well, I'm working on the launch of Stella's new autumn collection, and it's in this fuck off big mansion and I know they've got all kinds of crazy shit going on," she beamed enthusiastically.

"Oh that," I said dismissively. "Damian's already asked me to that."

"Oh," said Naomi, slightly deflated. "And?"

"I'm not going," I said firmly.

"Why not?" asked Emily. "There'll be loads of people you know there."

"Exactly," I told her. "Effy's doing the fireworks there, and she still thinks I'm called Katie Fucking Ford and I'm writing a bloody thesis."

"You still haven't told her?" said Emily incredulously.

"It's complicated," I replied grumpily.

"How come Effy's doing such a high profile party?" asked Emily suspiciously.

"Because I got her the gig, ok," I snapped. "But it's not like she doesn't deserve it. She's fucking talented. Those people aren't going to know what's hit them."

"Well it's about time she found out your secret identity," said Naomi, seizing an opportunity. "You can tell her at the party, and she can't really be cross with you cause you got her such an awesome gig. It's perfect."

But I wasn't really focussed on her words. Instead I was fatally hypnotised by the creeping sense of realisation that had worked its way across my sister's face towards the end of my little outburst.

"Oh my God, you're shagging her," said Emily bluntly.

Little sod always was too clever for her own good.

"What?" said Naomi, cutting herself off in mid-enthuse.

"Katie's fucking the pyrochick, and she still hasn't told her she works for a rival company," Emily explained helpfully.

Naomi was looking at me like I'd just kicked her favourite kitten.

"You're fucking her…?" she said despondently.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Hence the not going to a party where every fucker there will have heard of the notorious Katie Fitch."

"Oh," said Naomi, as if I had informed her of some great tragedy.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked her. "Why are you so desperate for me to go to a fucking party?"

No wonder she and Ems have to have an honest relationship, cause her efforts to hide her guilt were laughable.

"Oh for fuck's sake, not you as well," I gasped in exasperation.

"The fuck?" said Emily. "Not her as well what?"

"Anna asked her to get me to the party," I said. "And she did exactly the same thing with Damian."

"Is that true?" said Emily, turning towards her girlfriend.

"What the fuck?" said Naomi. "I like her, OK? She's a good mate. She's intelligent, charming and fun to work with, and this thing she has for Katie is real."

"What the fuck, Naomi?" scolded Emily.

"It's OK," I sighed. "Anna _is_ charming, and she's a genius at getting people to do what she wants."

"Everyone except you, eh?" smiled Ems.

"I think that's part of my charm," I shrugged. "But things are different now. I'm in love with somebody else."

"Wait a minute," said Emily. "You're in love with her? Then what the fuck are you playing at, Katie?"

"It's not that simple," I protested. "You don't know her."

"And I never will if you keep pretending I don't exist. It's time to 'fess up, bitch."

"I didn't come here for a lecture," I said, standing up and throwing my share of the bill down on the table. "Naomi, kindly tell Anna that I have a previous engagement, and for fuck's sake keep her away from Effy, otherwise there'll be consequences. And if you don't believe me, ask Emily how she got that scar above her eye."

I knew my little tantrum wouldn't really faze Ems. She's been witness to some classic Katie Fitch storming out scenes over the years. Naomi looked a little more traumatised, but if she was in this family for the long haul, she was bound to acclimatise. I could already picture Emily comforting her in that special way of hers that would inevitably lead to nakedness and fannies. So I felt sure that the blonde would be more than fine in the not too distant future. I was the one who really needed comforting. But the one person I really wanted to run to was also the source of all my troubles. Mais c'etait plus grand que moi. The desire to be with her outweighed everything else, and it was almost on automatic that I drove up to the barn and found myself knocking on her door again. As soon as her arms slid around me and her lips began to dance across my neck, the sweet narcotic of selective memory began pumping through my veins. I forgot I was a lying bitchcunt whore, and simply became just a girl who loved another girl beyond all imagining.

It must have been about five am on the night of the party, when I was woken up by a text alert on my phone. It was Effy, **"Be in my bed when I get home."**

My arms and legs jerked to attention as a bolt of electricity shot through each one of them at the thought. I had a vision of Effy, still in her firing suit, smelling of cordite and with attractive designer smudges on her face bursting through the door to find me naked in her bed, and taking me in a furious frenzy of lust without even taking her helmet off. I stuck my hand between my legs to feel the instantaneous pool of moisture that the vision had engendered. Despite the earliness of the hour, I found myself getting up and getting dressed. If this was the kind of reaction Imaginary Effy had provoked, there was no way I was going to miss the real thing. I had no idea what time they were going to make it back to the barn but I sure as hell wasn't going to take any chances.

I let myself into the barn with the key they kept hidden in the yard, and as instructed I took myself into her bed. I couldn't sleep though. I was far too excited by the prospect of her return. Effy was always super horny after she'd been firing, and the benefits that Freddie used to reap were now mine, and mine alone. At least I hoped they were. I hoped to God that Naomi had done what she was told and kept Anna away from her. Quite apart from the fact that she could reveal my true identity, Effy had confessed how she had always fancied the Russian, and if my deception had been exposed, Anna would make one hell of a revenge fuck.

It was about 8am when I finally heard the truck rolling into the yard. I didn't go down to greet them. I was too busy positioning myself elegantly on the bed in my finest set of silky red bra and knickers, trying to make myself look like the most desirable woman in the world. I wanted to give her what she wanted, a hot and sexually willing bitch in her bed. My heart started thumping when I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. It was ridiculous the intensity of the physical reactions she could provoke in me, even without being in the room. To my initial disappointment she wasn't in her pyroclothes, but in a black and pink party dress. She still looked hot as fuck though, and her eyes filled out to black when she caught sight on me on the bed. She dropped her bag and jacket where she stood and practically leapt onto the bed, and taking me in a strong and passionate kiss.

We rolled around on the bed, hands flying everywhere, trading deep bruising kisses and trying to pin each other down. I managed to drag her out of her dress to discover Effy in posh underwear too, albeit a little bit less dramatically expensive than mine.

"These better be for my benefit," I growled into her neck, roughly palming her tit through the black lace.

"Oh God, Katie," she moaned back at me. "Who else would they be for?"

"Oh perhaps that entire mansion full of models you've just been with, my darling…" I said, pining her arms above her head.

It had the desired effect as I felt her hips pushing up eagerly towards me.

"What? Those scrawny little fuckers?" she said breathily. "Why would I want them when I have you?"

"Right answer," I said, pushing my hips aggressively down against her clit.

"Oh Jesus, Katie, please fuck me," she demanded. "My cunt's on fucking fire."

Desire is a powerful fucking force, and the need to be inside her exploded through every cell in my body. My hand was already between her legs before she had finished her second sentence. I couldn't wait. I pushed her knickers to one side and thrust two fingers roughly inside her.

"Oh fuck yes, babes," she cried. "Like that. I need you."

She spread her legs beneath me and I fucked her harder, drowning in the moans and cries that were my own very favourite special music. Effy was wild, hungry, pushing herself up against my thrusts and throwing her upper body around in complete abandon. She was driving me fucking crazy. Her cunt was soaking, and she felt so fucking beautiful. She kept yelling at me to take her, and my arm started working on automatic, thrusting harder and faster into her deep, hot gorgeous pussy. I love her more than ever when she's like this, feral, unrestrained and demanding. I love how powerful she is. I hope I never forget how I feel in moments like these, that I never want to cage her, to try to hold her back from being the Effy she truly is. That we must never argue over who turn it is to wash up or some such shit, cause when we're making love we are like goddesses – hot bitches with superpowers who can blow the world apart.

The force of it was almost brutal now, but neither of us would have stopped even if the bloody building fell down. Effy was black-eyed and breathless, and I was a woman possessed. I needed to make her come. My life depended on it. and so I summoned up reserves of strength and slammed into her even harder.

"Putain, je vais jouir…" she shouted.

I knew what that meant now.

Her body spasmed once last time and I could feel her tighten around me as she screamed her way through an orgasm that probably should have broken the bed. I know it nearly broke me as I struggled to stay with the violence of her motions. I clung onto her as she gripped me from within, and we tumbled down from the centre of the tempest.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I chanted on repeat as the aftershocks ripped through her.

It was all I had. It was all I knew. I was in love with Effy Stonem, and probably would be till the day I died.

"Fucking hell," said Effy finally, when she calmed down enough and I was lying on her chest. "That was hot."

"Your were like a fucking volcano," I laughed, pushing aside the fabric of her bra so I could lay my hand on her tit. "Good gig then?"

"It wasn't bad," she smiled smugly, and I knew she had fucking owned it.

"I take it you went to the party afterwards," I said.

"Yeah, it was quite cool," she said dismissively.

I smirked, knowing that this was Effy speak for 'fucking awesome'.

"Meet anyone famous?" I asked.

She gave me her best Gallic shrug.

"You know I don't really care about that stuff," she said. "I wouldn't know who most of them were… Freddie was all about the schmoozing. I just got wasted and danced. Thomas was more about the music than the models and ended up chatting to the Djs. And Cook was just trying to shag as many girls as he could manage."

"How did he do?" I grinned.

"At least two. Maybe three," replied Effy.

"That's our boy," I giggled. "Though to be fair, it probably takes about three normal women to measure up to one of us."

"I'd say at least twenty to measure up to you, mon Coeur," she smiled, her thumb drifting across my cheek. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," I smirked. "It's a pleasure, not a chore."

Effy didn't reply, and when I raised my head to gauge her reaction I could tell that she wasn't just thanking me for the sex. She stared at me with her piercing blue eyes, and I knew that she knew it was me who got her the gig.

"You're not mad?" I asked her.

"I'm not mad," she said. "I love you."

I let her kiss me and roll me onto my back. I let her keep on kissing me until I felt my physical brain take over. She was wonderful, and this moment was perfect. There's not a force on this earth that could make me want to ruin this moment. Tomorrow, I promised myself as I abandoned myself to her. I'll come clean with her tomorrow….

.

.

.

Your French for today

Mais c'etait plus grand que moi. – But it was bigger than me

"Putain, je vais jouir…" – Fuck, I'm going to come


	23. Six Inch Blowout

23. Six Inch Blowout

Effy

My ears were filled with the sound of screaming. It was my own screaming. Not the kind you get from a physical horror or a terrifying nightmare. Le genre de cris qui te prennent à la gorge quand tu te fais baiser ardemment contre le mur de ta chambre d'hôtel. The screams of a wild, carnal, primal release. I couldn't help these noises that erupted from me as Katie slammed me up against the wall of a non-descript hotel room on the Watford ring road. I felt sorry for our neighbours, but then again they might have been pervs and been thoroughly enjoying it. Either way I wasn't about to stop. It was post-show sex, my favourite kind of sex, and Katie had been just as eager as me, hunting me down for kisses as soon as the last shell had gone up. I was just starting to pack the firing system up when she dragged me round the corner and stuck her hands inside my suit. My helmet fell from my hands where I dropped it to wrap my fingers into her hair. Her kisses were deep and passionate, and her hands had already found their way under my T shirt and onto my breasts. If it wasn't for Freddie's approaching voice calling out for me, I think she would have taken me then and there. Reluctantly she pulled away and her dark brown eyes locked onto mine. I was glad she had backed me up against the wall, cause I don't think I would have been capable of standing up on my own.

"That was intense," she said calmly, and I knew she wasn't talking about the kiss.

"Are you ok?" I asked her.

"I want you so much my fucking pussy's on fire, but apart from that I'm fine," she smiled dirtily, and I fell in love with her all over again.

Intense was not the word. Encore une fois, le destin avait décidé de nous rappeler combien la frontière entre l'exaltation de nos prises de risques contrôlés et le danger réel était précaire. The show was a closing finale for an arts festival called Imagine Watford. Watford is a commuter town just outside London where, as popular tales would have it, all Londoners' conception of the North begins and ends, and beyond which civilisation fades into obscurity. Whereas in reality many cities in the north of England have undergone regeneration and are vibrant, cultured places, Watford itself has been left to rot. Its High St was a mixture of pound shops, pubs and empty units and the seventies multi storey car park whose roof we were firing from was a hulking reminder of its former glories. But due to the passion and inspiration of a few, it had become home to a fantastic summer-long festival of street theatre which belied the paucity of its surroundings and drew acts of international quality, which were greeted with great enthusiasm by its audiences. It was this optimism in the face of adversity and the harsh times that surrounded us that attracted me to the British arts scene and helped to fuel my decision to come back here to make my name amongst it.

The show itself was not that challenging. They simply wanted to go out with a bang, so it was mostly just a blaster, firing colour to fill the sky with a fair amount of larger calibre material. The set up had been fairly easy, and the weather had been kind to us, and we'd spent a pretty chilled out day setting out on the hardstanding of the roof. They had closed the surrounding roads so I had no concerns about the fallout zones, and I'd been able to concentrate on the wow factor, building layers of intensity and colour to the shit hot soundtrack the clients had easily approved of. Katie had come with us again and I could spare quite a bit of time for perving on my gorgeous girlfriend as she worked. Call me a nerd, but I had serious hots for the way she rigged. She was just so calm, focussed and efficient. I would never have guessed that the forceful hothead I had met in Paris would have such a flair for the practical, and I never got tired of watching her.

Thomas caught me doing so at one point, but his only response was to flash me one of his gorgeous warm smiles.

"C'est bon de te voir heureuse, Effy," he told me.

"Je vais devoir faire attention," I replied. "Ca devient presque une habitude."

"This is one habit you should keep," he answered. "I think she's good for you."

"I think she's good for me too," I admitted.

She _was_ good for me. 'Les ténèbres' no longer shadowed my brain. I suddenly realised that it had been quite some time since I had felt them pressing on my consciousness. Considering all the drama it had taken for us to get here, I was amazed at how simple things had turned out to be for me and Katie. Not being with her had been a heart-wrenching trauma, but being with her had proved to be the simplest thing in the world. Her presence excited me and comforted me at the same time. The sex was sensational, and getting better all the time the more deeply we explored each other, but I loved to just watch her cook, to listen to the sound of her voice, or feel her presence next to me as I designed. Though I thought about her every day, even when we weren't together, her personality didn't smother me like Freddie's had. I felt no need to rebel, as she set no restrictions on my behaviour. Every interaction with her was a choice and not and obligation. And if I felt the need to get a little wild she'd be right there with me, always in some obscenely hot outfit so I soon forgot about doing drugs and concentrated on doing her instead.

I snapped out of my reverie to find Thomas still grinning at me.

"I never thought I'd see the day," he said. "But love looks good on you. I wish I could find someone to make me smile like that."

"She's out there somewhere, Thomas," I assured him. "Let's face it, if it can happen to me, it can happen to fucking anyone."

"I hope you're right," he said, pulling me into a big, friendly hug.

"Didn't you get the company memo?" I whispered in his ear. "I'm _always_ right."

The rest of the day passed in companionship and easy banter. We even finished rigging early and got to have quite a break before firing. Whilst the lads went off to get chips and burgers, Katie forced me to eat some of the healthy salad she had brought from home. I never normally eat on show days, but in keeping with my new, relaxed persona I allowed myself the luxury of food.

"You're scrawny enough as it is," Katie was mumbling in the background. "I don't want you wasting away on me."

"Yes Mum," I smirked at her.

"Don't give me that," she countered. "You let your Mum feed you, so you're just going to have to do the same for me."

"I love you," I blurted out on the spur of the moment.

I watched the frown melt away from her face, before she caught herself.

"Don't think you can get round me like that, Effy Stonem," she huffed. "There'll be no snogging till you've had your dinner."

"T'en es bien sûre?" I teased her.

"Absolutely," she said with conviction, but her eyes were flaring with desire.

"I'd like to test that theory," I said, putting my Tupperware down and crawling towards her on my hands and knees.

"Oh fuck," said Katie, already setting her bowl aside.

Her lips were parted when I met her, and as I kissed her I pushed her backwards until she was lying on her back on the tarmac. I tasted her glorious lips for a few more moments before I pulled away. She craned her neck to try to reach me.

"So what was that about no snogging, babes?" I said.

"Effy, shut the fuck up and kiss me," she commanded.

I had intended to drag it out a little bit, but there is nothing quite as sexy as a dominant Katie, and I capitulated immediately, lowering my head until we could engage in glorious love-splattered kissage to our hearts' content.

Or maybe not.

"The fuck?" said Katie grumpily as we both registered the sound of voices coming up the stairs. It didn't sound like any of the boys, but the security downstairs wouldn't have let any randoms up, so it had to be someone from the clients.

"Talk about spoiling the moment," scowled Katie, as she rearranged herself to look presentable.

"I'll make it up to you later," I said, giving her a peck on the nose before turning to await the arrival of our visitors.

It turned out to be the health and safety dude from the council. We'd filled in all the risk assessments and paperwork weeks ago, but those guys just love poking their noses into stuff. I guess seeing actual dangerous stuff gives them a vicarious thrill. Though I usually deflected them onto Freddie, I knew all the right things to say, and no one could fault my knowledge of pyro. However it seemed like this idiot was going to have a damn good try.

"Oh," he said, his face falling when he found himself confronted by two pretty girls. "I need to speak to the guy in charge."

"Well you'll have a fucking long wait, mate," I heard Katie mutter behind me. The build up of her protective rage was almost tangible, and I knew I had to take control before she exploded on my behalf. After working in an industry where women held powerful positions, she wasn't quite used to one that was still steeped in the sexist assumptions of the past.

"I'm the guy in charge," I said sweetly. "Though obviously not actually a guy."

I could see the yellowcoat struggling to believe me.

"I've been dealing with a Frederick McClair," he frowned.

"Yes, Freddie deals with our administrative inquiries," I said cheekily. "On site there's only one boss, and that's me."

"Oh, right…" floundered H and S man, trying to readjust from his faux pas.

"Effy Stonem, Artistic Director," I said holding out my hand for him to shake.

I proceeded to dazzle and baffle him with a mountain of technical information as I showed him round the site, explaining our rigging and firing procedures, and by the end of it he was as meek as a kitten, despite the way that Katie's eyes were boring hostile holes into his back.

"Dickhead," Katie spat, once he had barely gone back through the doors.

"Agreed," I smiled at her. "But I defeated him with the mighty power of my brain."

"You fucking did, babes," she said proudly. "I just hate it when knobbers like that just assume you don't know shit just because you're a girl. But you were so fucking cool with him, really showed his attitude up."

"Well, I had to do something before the flying fists of Katie Ford came into play," I grinned.

"You are the better woman," said Katie, curtseying to me graciously. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe there was some nonsense about me loving you," I said.

"That's not nonsense," she grinned. "That's just sound decision-making. And seeing as your brain is so mighty, you've obviously made the right choice."

"Ça c'est la vérité," I replied, and pulled her into my arms once more.

Things were just starting to get heated again when we were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of Cook's booming voice.

"Fuck's sake," muttered Katie. "I might have to discover my inner radical dyke if these men keep interrupting my Effy time."

"_You_ have an inner radical dyke?" I smirked at her.

"Yeah, well you know what I mean," she grinned back at me.

"Room for a little one in that sandwich?" said Cook as he arrived back onto the roof.

"Never though I'd hear you admit that it's only a little one," countered Katie.

"Oh how she wounds me. You know I have nothing but a massive admiration for you Katiekins," laughed Cook, pointing at his crotch.

"The only massive thing about you is your opinion of yourself," put in Thomas, cuffing him playfully around the back of the head.

Cook rounded on him and they began to playfight.

"Don't think this display of machismo is going to impress the ladies," added Freddie, with just a hint of resignation in his voice. "They've got their own thing going on. Besides, we all know Katie could take you both in a fight."

I knew it still wasn't easy for him seeing me and Katie, and because of this I dropped out of our embrace. We didn't need to rub his face in it in the workplace. But it didn't do much to dissipate the sexual tension that fizzed between us for the rest of the night. Our desire still crackled like static electricity when we came within a couple of metres of each other, and we began a coded dialogue of furtive glances and hidden touches, which only made it all the more exciting. By the time it came to firing I was horny as fuck and for the first time ever, I found myself distracted at the point where I was normally totally in the zone.

"You ok, babes?" Katie asked me, when she noticed me frowning.

I looked up, and the sight of her sent a tingling sensation sparking down my arms. I swear I felt so bursting with electricity I could have set off the pyro without the aid of the firing system just by walking past them.

"Tu es une femme dangereuse," I said.

"Mais tu aimes le danger," replied Katie, with a self-satisfied smile, and I knew that the next time we had sex it would be stratospheric.

But first there was the small matter of the show to get through. I breathed a sigh of relief when we got the five minute standby through on the radio, and I was finally able to clear my head for the task ahead. I wasn't expecting trouble, the rig had been painless, and everything had tested out perfectly. I had wooed the health and safety man with the thoroughness of my systems and I had a crew that I could trust with my life.

Mais l'univers a le sens de l'humour tordu. It loves to fuck with us, and that's just what it did. We had a six inch tube blow out on us. It's not something that happens very often, but it's something we all know about. I had it drilled into me in France, and I made sure I passed on my knowledge to the boys when I was training them. Truth is I've only ever seen it once, and until now it had never happened at Le Coeur. A blow out is when the bottom of the mortar tube fails and the shell does not lift but explodes out of the tube on ground level. There's a couple of explanations, the first being a faulty lift charge, when the shell has no propulsion, and detonates its load of stars where it sits in the tube. The second is a weakness in the tube itself, where it cannot take the compression of the blast and gives way before the propulsion can send the shell skywards. The consequences are not as dire as they used to be in the old days when everything was hand-fired, and there was a need to be much closer to the high calibre shells, but it's still pretty scary. A massive firework that should be shooting six hundred feet in the air and detonating well out of harm's way, is suddenly doing its business on the ground around you. It's why we have such massive safety zones to prevent it ever reaching the audience. The worst thing is if you're mid way through a firing sequence, and it manages to take out another set of shells before you can shut anything down. It's why I always make sure my large tubes are adequately spaced out on sturdy racks, to minimise the risk of such an eventuality.

The only time I had seen it, I had been with Thierry at a festival in Rouen, but we had been in a massive park. With a damaged lift charge, the shell had exploded in the tube, and the stars had erupted from its base, scattering along the ground towards us in an angry dance of sparks. We were far enough away that most of the energy had dissipated from the blast by the time the sparks reached our feet, but during that second, every instinct in my body had told me to run. Que tout autour de moi éclatait quelque-chose que je ne pouvais pas contrôler et il était temps de concéder que cette force explosive était bien plus puissante que nous pauvres fous qui essayions de la dominer. I lost my famous cool. I screamed like a girl and tried to outrun it, but it was as useless as trying to dodge the incoming tide when an unexpected wave is destined to soak your feet no matter how fast you try to scramble backwards away from it. I was ok. Of course I was. I had my boots and my protective suit, and I got a ribbing from some of the older lads for being such as wuss. But there's a big difference between knowing something intellectually, and understanding it physically. I've taken far worse pastings since without batting an eyelid. But I'll never forget the fear that gripped me that night.

Tonight the first indication that something was wrong was an unfamiliar flash of light. When the shells rip upwards out of the tubes they are followed by a monstrous roar and a column of flame a couple of metres high, but this light spread out sideways and was way too bright. And then the sound. Just like a master carpenter can detect the flow of the grain and the faults in a piece of wood just by looking at it, my highly tuned ears can distinguish between the differing sounds of an explosion. In an open ground site I wouldn't have been near enough to detect these subtle changes, but in the restricted space of the car park roof my firing point was a lot closer to the action. There was barely time to react before the mayhem let loose. The firework smashed it's way out of the tube with its lift charge firing on full, and for the next six seconds a mighty chaos unleashed itself upon us. The shell began to richochet around us bouncing off the walls and the other racks before the delay ran its course and the burst charge fired, showering the site with stars.

Everybody freaked, and there was shouting and swearing and diving for cover as gut instincts took over and self-preservation became the boys' most urgent motivating force. I say the boys, because there were two notable exceptions amongst the crew. I stood motionless behind the firing desk, as time appeared to slow down before my eyes. Somewhere in the midst of the maelstrom my brain was telling me that I had to be responsible for shutting down the show if things got out of hand, and that I needed to retain some focus. Mais cette distorsion du temps me permit d'apercevoir l'évènement le plus spectaculaire. My Katie, standing tall amidst the pandemonium, cool as a fucking emperor penguin on egg duty. Her sharp brown eyes were focussed and intent. She was watching the racks, checking on the next tubes in the sequence, making sure that the damage could be localised. Like a sprinter on the blocks she was totally in the zone, knowing that the next few seconds were the only ones that mattered. And when a piece of debris came whizzing perilously close to her, like she was in the fucking Matrix or something, she simply stepped backwards to let it pass. And as the stars started to dance around her, she just tucked her visor down tighter and watched them with an enchanted smile on her face. When they began to die down, she cast a final careful eye across the site, before turning and giving me the thumbs up.

My ears were still being assaulted by the sounds of the explosions and by the colourful curses of the boys, but my eyes remained riveted to Katie. There were two and a half minutes left to run on the clock, but I barely needed to watch the pyro. I knew she had my back. Si je ne l'aimais pas déjà, je me serais effondrée en face de son sang froid cette nuit là. I had never met someone with such a natural instinct for pyro. So much of it is logical and can be taught to anyone with common sense and a practical nature, but Katie seemed like she was born to it. Like it was in her blood. I felt a sense of kinship with her that I had never felt with anyone else, not even my beloved boys. And I knew, not in an intellectual way, but in some deep animal feeling in my gut, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this woman.

It was a shock that hit me in the sudden silence after the cacophony of the finale. It wasn't something I had ever expected to feel, but all it took was her smiling at me in that brief moment of calm, for me to cast away my anxieties and just accept it as the truth. My inner calm remained when the all too brief silence was shattered moments later.

"What the fuck was that, Effy?" yelled Freddie, accompanied by more swearing from Thomas and Cook.

"That, gentlemen," I said, turning to face them. "Was a six inch blowout."

"Man, that was fucking MENTAL!" bellowed Cook, dancing about excitedly.

"I may have had a little word with God," admitted Thomas.

"I was fucking bricking it," said Freddie.

"Yeah, it was well scary," said Katie sauntering up to join us, but I knew she was lying to save the boys' pride. For her it was a thrill.

The truth came out when she had me backed against the wall with her hands inside my suit.

"That was intense," she had said, but it was nothing on this.

The sexual tension that had been building between us all day, became searing hot during the de-rig. We had practically fallen through the door of our hotel room, and were ripping each other's clothes off before we had even shut it behind us. And now I was plunging headlong into an orgasm I wasn't entirely sure I would survive.

"Fils de pute, putain de saloperie de sa mère!" I yelled as my pussy began to tighten around her and my body shuddered violently way beyond any sense of control.

"I fucking love you, I fucking love you," hissed Katie repeatedly as she hammered me towards my release.

And suddenly I lost all sense of space and time. A detonation even more spectacular and colourful than the six inch blowout overtook every part of my consciousness. It is said that we are all made of stars, and I felt like one just then. A star in supernova. The building blocks that make the heavens, are the same as the ones that make me, are the same as the ones that make my fireworks. Mine was only one of many billions of explosions in the universe that night, but its power would stay with me always.

"I fucking love you," repeated Katie as she rested her sweaty forehead against mine.

"I fucking love you too," I replied.

"Putain, que je t'adore," she smiled.

"Putain, que je t'adore aussi," I laughed.

I was a silly lovers' game to try and ground ourselves again after our rage of lust, but I think we both knew we were fooling ourselves. This had been no trivial exchange. Though I did not yet know how it would manifest itself, somehow I felt that the very fabric of our universe had changed.

.

.

.

Three days later Katie and I were dragging ourselves out of bed at the barn. We had gone back there the day after the gig, and she hadn't made it home yet.

"Don't go," I pouted at her, as she opened the bedroom door.

She rolled her eyes at me, but there was no malice in her gaze. Nevertheless she turned and headed out of the room. I had been putting off the inevitable all morning, but I moved like lightning as I threw on some clothes and chased her down the stairs.

"J'veux pas que tu partes." I repeated as I caught her up in the kitchen.

"Seriously, babes, I'm running out of underwear," she replied.

"You can borrow some of mine," I replied.

I was greeted with a snort of derision.

"No offence honey, but Primark isn't one of my regular labels," she said scathingly.

"My pants are not Primark," I huffed. "They might be Tesco's…"

"Honestly," teased Katie. "I thought the French were supposed to be stylish."

"I blame it on my Dad," I shrugged. "If only Anthea hadn't suffered temporary insanity and fallen for an Englishman."

"Effy, my love," said Katie, her face softening into a gentle smile. "You're beautiful. You can throw on a pair of old overalls and still look astounding. Some of us have to work a little harder at it."

"You could always work a little harder at it here," I suggested.

A sudden look of seriousness swept across her features.

"Effy, are you…?" she asked me hesitantly.

"Yeah, I think I am," I said, realising the implications of my words.

"Are you sure?" she asked me.

"I want to be with you," I said. "I want to wake up with you every day. I want to watch you getting dressed. I want to have breakfast with you. I don't want to have to arrange to see you. I just want it to be part of our day. I want to tumble into bed with you after a hard day's work and not be concerned whether it's for snuggles or groundshakingly momentous sex. Sometimes my passion for you overwhelms me, but other times I just really fucking like being round you."

"We've only been seeing each other a few months," she said, trying to bring a rational argument to the table, but I was having none of it.

"I know, but we've been in love with each other a lot longer than that. You've already set up camp in here," I replied, putting my hand over my heart. "Move in with me Katie. I'm inviting you to move in with me."

"Oh God," she said, putting her head in her hands and taking deep breaths.

"It's ok," I reassured her. "I'll still love you, whatever you decide."

When she looked at me again, she seemed on the verge of tears.

"Oh Jesus," she said. "I love you. I love you so fucking much. But there's something…. I need to…. Fuck. I can't do this until…."

I could sense she was really struggling, and I knew that she needed to release that part of her she kept so guarded before she could accept my offer.

"It's ok," I told her, taking her hands in mine. "Whatever it is, it's ok."

Her hands gripped tightly onto mine, and she stared deeply into my eyes as if searching them for the answer to a question she didn't dare to ask. I struggled to stop myself smirking at the ridiculous irony. Out there in the hardcore environment of the pyro site, she was a braveheart in the face of danger, but here in this minefield of emotions, she was afraid. But of what? Je savais qu'Anna lui avait brisé le coeur. Avait-elle peur que j'en fasse autant? I opened my mouth to declare the depth of my devotion, but her glance shot sideways at the sound of thunderous footsteps hurtling down the stairs.

"Fucking YES!" shouted Freddie as he burst through the kitchen door, oblivious to the moment he had just destroyed. Katie leapt away from me, and uncharacteristically grabbed a cigarette from my pack on the table.

"What?" I spat unkindly at Freds, trying to calm the murderous thoughts that stalked the passageways of my brain.

"We got it!" he declared happily.

"What did we get?" I huffed in irritation.

"Just got the email," he answered in delight. "We're on the list for Plymouth."

"Oh," I replied. That fucking stopped me in my tracks.

The idea of Plymouth might not set most hearts a racing, but for us it was a massive fucking deal. Every year they held a pyrotechnics competition, with different sites around the harbour. Everyone had to work to the same budget to produce a ten minute show. Only six companies were chosen, with three companies firing each night over a weekend, and the event was incredibly prestigious with the winner almost guaranteed to gain more work. Freddie had entered us just to put our names on the map, but there was no way any of us had ever expected to get selected in our first year of serious trading. My anger evaporated in an instant.

"You're fucking shitting me," I said.

"I kid you not," he replied smugly. "Le Coeur Explosif are in the fucking mix, and we're going to fucking smash it."

"Freddie that's fucking amazing," I said, my tender moment with Katie drowned out by the surge of my ego bursting out from my chest.

"I know!" he said grabbing me into a bear hug.

"Who are we up against?" I asked.

"Specialized FX, Union One, Skyflower, Fitchtastic Fireworks and Northern Lights."

I mentally ran through the list in my mind.

"There's a couple of good companies in there," I said. "But fuck it, I don't think there's anyone that could really blow us out of the water. I think we could be in with a chance."

"I know you can do it, honey," said Freds, squeezing me hard and kissing the top of my head. "You're the best."

I was so wrapped up in the moment, I barely noticed Katie until she was halfway out the door.

"Well done babes," she said almost insincerely. "I'm sure you'll be brilliant."

"Wait, where are you going?" I called after her. "We need to celebrate."

"I've got stuff to do," she said irritatedly. "I'll catch you later, yeah?"

And with that she bolted through the door before I had the chance to stop her. What the fuck?

"Putain," I hissed in frustration. I wanted my woman with me in my moment of triumph, and I couldn't figure out what had triggered her speedy escape. Unless it was the easy physical affection Freddie and I had thrown ourselves into at the news. Parfois, dans ma petite bulle d'amour, j'oubliais que les rapports étaient encore fragiles entre eux. I turned round to find him shaking his head in disapproval.

"What?" I frowned at him.

"I don't trust her," he said sagely, as if he was delivering some new secret of the universe.

"She stole your girlfriend, Freds," I sighed. "Of course you don't fucking trust her."

"No it's more than that," he said. "You've just had the most amazing news, and she's out the door with barely a word. There's something off about her. I can feel it."

"What?" I said cuttingly. "Is your woman's intuition telling you?"

"Maybe if I was a woman you'd like me more," he fumed back at me.

"Stop it," I demanded wearily. "Just stop it. I don't want to fucking fight with you, Freddie. This should be a happy day. We've just achieved something amazing. We should go find Cook and Thomas and go get hammered."

"You're right," said Freddie. "I'm sorry. Today should be about the team. Our team. Our band of brothers. Our beating heart."

"Sure," I said. "Those two motherfuckers are going to go fucking mental."

I could have told him about my heart. J'aurais pu lui dire que sans Katie mon cœur ne battait pas. But as my fingers were already typing out the words 'Pub. Now.' in a text to Cook, I decided to let it lie.

.

.

.

Our French for today…

1. Le genre de cris qui te prennent à la gorge quand tu te fais baiser ardemment contre le mur de ta chambre d'hôtel.

The kind you get when you're having the fuck of your life up against the wall of your hotel room.

2. Encore une fois, le destin avait décidé de nous rappeler combien la frontière entre l'exaltation de nos prises de risques contrôlés et le danger réel était précaire.

Once again fate had seen fit to give us a little reminder of the thin line we trod between excitement and danger.

3. "C'est bon de te voir heureuse, Effy," - "It's good to see you happy, Effy,"

4. "Je vais devoir faire attention," I replied. "Ca devient presque une habitude."

"I'll have to be careful," I replied. "It's getting to be quite a habit."

5. Les ténèbres – the darkness

6. "T'en es bien sûre?"- "Are you sure about that?"

7. "Ça c'est la vérité," – That's the truth

7. "Tu es une femme dangereuse," - "You are a dangerous woman,"

"Mais tu aimes le danger," - "You love danger,"

8. Mais l'univers a le sens de l'humour tordu.

But the universe has a twisted sense of humour.

9. Que tout autour de moi éclatait quelque-chose que je ne pouvais pas contrôler et il était temps de concéder que cette force explosive était bien plus puissante que nous pauvres fous qui essayions de la dominer.

That this was something that I could not control, and it was time to respect that its explosive force was greater than we fools who had tried to harness it.

10. Mais cette distorsion du temps me permit d'apercevoir l'évènement le plus spectaculaire.

But that warping of time allowed me to witness the most extraordinary event.

11. Si je ne l'aimais pas déjà, je me serais effondrée en face de son sang froid cette nuit là.

If I hadn't already been in love with her, I would have crumpled in the face of her that night.

12. "Fils de pute, putain de saloperie de sa mère!" – once again this is Froggie responding to my request to 'insert some violently colourful French Swearing here'

13. "J'veux pas que tu partes." - "I don't want you to go,"

14. Je savais qu'Anna lui avait brisé le coeur. Avait-elle peur que j'en fasse autant?

I know Anna had broken her heart. Was she afraid that I would do the same?

15. Parfois, dans ma petite bulle d'amour, j'oubliais que les rapports étaient encore fragiles entre eux.

Sometimes in my little bubble of love I forgot how raw everything still was between them.

16. J'aurais pu lui dire que sans Katie mon cœur ne battait pas.

I could have told him that without Katie, my heart didn't beat at all.


	24. Staring Into Space

**Rejoice, rejoice my friends and readers, for SJ is out of hospital. Still working hard on her health, but free and in the arms of her love. **

**SJ, I fucking love you girl, but keep getting better or I'll have to send KFF round…**

**This chapter goes out to all of us who have ever had a brush with the darkness.**

**With Hyperlove**

**I don't own Skins, but I'm sure it doesn't mind…**

24. Staring Into Space

Katie

My heart was pounding as I sped away from Effy's in my car. Cocking hell, the universe could be a fucking dicksplash sometimes. My mind was racing and if I hadn't been gripping the steering wheel so tight, I knew my hands would have been shaking too. I was powering along the road back into Bristol, feeling like I had taken a whole bag of dodgy speed, and my emotions were an ugly mess. Effy had asked me to move in with her. Fuck. That was massive. I'm not sure how well that was going to work out with Freddie still being there, but fuck me did I want it to happen. God, all those beautiful things she said as she sketched out a life together had made me quiver with love for her. Cause I wanted all of those things too. There was a reason I hadn't left the barn in three days, and it was all because of the way I felt about her. It might have been ironic that such a tender moment had come on the heels of bouts of explosive sex, but that was the way it was with her. Grand passion blended seamlessly with charming intimacy, and the instant the idea had come spilling out unfiltered from her brain, I knew that I could make a life with her.

But for one fucking little problem. She still didn't know who I really was. One of the things I love so much about her was that when she gave into her emotions they were raw and beautiful and completely honest. I had learned that that smugly mysterious exterior she had presented to me in Paris was just that. An exterior, a shell. The real Effy was far from the emotionless smartass some people still believed her to be. She had let me in the first time we had kissed, and her disregard for the things that were expected of us meant that she had expressed herself freely whatever she had been experiencing. I knew the woman I loved, both good and bad. Our struggle to understand the depth of our attraction had been undertaken together, and I knew that I could trust her completely. I had been overwhelmed by her invitation, but I knew I could never accept it until I had fully revealed myself to her.

Thing is, I really was going to fucking tell her that time. I wanted to be with her so much, that my courage had finally risen up to meet me and I was prepared to take the risk on the chance of gaining the ultimate reward. There have been many occasions where I have wanted to strangle Freddie, but none were more potent than this last one. The fucker can really choose his moments. As soon as he had announced the competition, I lost my fucking chance. Effy was so excited there was no way I could have dragged her back down into seriousness, and once again I found myself postponing one of the most important decisions of my life. I would help her celebrate, and then maybe, once things had calmed down a bit I could use her good mood to my advantage.

But the world is never content to hand you just one shovelful of shit, is it? It has to keep piling it on until you're up to your ears in crap. The biggest surprise of all was not that Effy's young company had managed to get themselves onto the shortlist, but that my fucking Dad had. How the hell had that happened? He had been trying for ten years to get a place in that show without success, so why now? Why fucking now?

I found myself driving on automatic back to our office. I had to know what the sodding hell was going on. Despite still being technically in Rob's employ, I had been spending less and less time there, and I knew he had only tolerated this absence because of my ridiculous spying mission. As soon as he worked out he was going to be in direct competition with Le Coeur, he was going to want me to make good on the time I'd been spending with them. It was totally fucked. I had been taking my Dad's money basically to go on my jollies with my girlfriend and I was going to have to admit that, as there was no way on this earth I was going to tell him shit about Effy's company. Maybe I should just fuck off to London and go see Emily. She and Naomi were the only people who knew both sides of the story, and didn't judge me for it.

But all this crap had to end some time, and may be that time was now. I passed the sign for the motorway, but somehow managed to suppress the desire just to run away from it all into the comforting embrace of my sister, and kept on my present course. You'd think things couldn't get any worse, but when I burst unceremoniously into the office, there was a strange pair of eyes staring up at me from my desk.

"Who are you?" asked a curly haired boy, frowning slightly in consternation.

"I'm Katie Fucking Fitch, who the fuck are you?" I spat angrily.

Jesus, I'm gone three fucking days and they've moved a geek into my office?

"Jones. Jonah. Jones," he blinked back at me. "Jonah Jeramiah Jones. JJ."

"Jesus fucking Christ, which fucking name do you want me to call you?"

I hadn't been wrong about the geek part. "And what the fuck are you doing in my office?"

"This is your office?" he said apologetically. "Your father told me to come and work in here when he gave me the job."

"Job? What job?" I frowned.

Fuck, had I been given the sack?

"Designing, mainly," replied the many J-named boy.

Shit. I had been nagging Rob to bite the bullet and take on a designer in order to make our displays more innovative, and it seemed he had finally taken my advice.

"Are you any good?" I asked.

"I have written my own software which allows for very complex firing sequences, and I have an excellent knowledge of the most up to date material. I have even begun experimenting with creating my own fireworks, though that didn't go down to well with my last employer, especially after the shed incident."

"What happened in the shed?" I said curiously.

"Some of my experiments have been less successful than others," concluded JJ.

"What happened in the shed?" I insisted.

"It exploded," confessed the boy, a tinge of red beginning to creep up his cheeks."

Well that was fucking great. Dad had taken on some mad professor type who was going to blow us all up in our boots.

The door opened and Jenna came walking into the room.

"Oh there you are, Katie love," she said, smiling her alien smile. "We thought you'd gotten lost for a minute there. I see you've met JJ. He's our new little clever genius, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Well, I am considered to be in the top three percent in the country for mathematical ability, so I suppose that might be considered to be genius," he replied, without any swagger. He was simply regurgitating fact.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

I couldn't take much more of this.

"Your father's on a site visit, love," replied Mum. "But he'll be back this evening. Why don't you come over for dinner and we'll all have a lovely catch up? We've got some great news."

Just what I needed, another bloody Fitch Family dinner, and with no Emily there to provide a protective buffer. But fuck it, I had to stand up to them sometime, and it was probably better to do it at home than in the workplace.

"Sure," I said with the illusion of enthusiasm. "Sounds great."

"Lovely. Well then I'll leave you young people to get acquainted," she said in a sickly voice, giving me a stupidly unsubtle wink as she left the room. Fucking what? Seriously? She wasn't seriously expecting me to get it on with exploding shed boy? I've dated a fucking supermodel for Christ's sake. When I turned back, he was gurning enthusiastically at me.

"Get off my fucking desk, I growled.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

.

.

.

I went back to my neglected flat before dinner. I hadn't been lying when I had told Effy of my underwear crisis. Also I wanted to dress up. To dress in something fabulous that made me feel powerful. Something that made me feel like the old Katie. The Head Bitch in Charge that had totally bossed the world of fashion instead of the Katie who skulked about in some kind of fucking twilight zone between her girlfriend and her parents and lacked the balls to tell the truth to either of them. Jesus, when had I become this pathetic?

The first person I encountered at Fitch Towers was James, who ambushed me into a proper full on Fitch hug.

"Good to see ya, Katie," he beamed. "Did ya hear we got into the competition?"

"Yeah, it's well good, right?" I replied, attempting to share in the family joy.

"Yeah, Dad's well chuffed," he replied. "He's hired some super new science geek designer so we can totally boss it."

"Yeah, we met. He's kind of odd though."

"Apparently he's some kind of genius."

"He's gonna have to be if we're gonna stand any chance of winning that competition."

"Yeah," shrugged James affably. "But it's the taking part that counts, right?"

"Keep telling yourself that, worm," I laughed, referring to mine and Emily's nickname for him from back in the day when he was a nauseating little sex pest.

"Maybe I'll finally get to meet that fit French bird you've been hiding from me," he grinned lasciviously.

Nothing changes. These days he's just a nauseating big sex pest.

"She would eat you for fucking breakfast, James Fitch," I said derisively.

"A boy can dream," he sighed.

Giving up, I punched him in the arm and made my way through to the living room. The first thing I noticed was my Dad. It was a shock as I clocked the genuine smile on his face and I realised I hadn't seen him this happy and excited for quite some time. I had a sudden flashback to him carrying me round site on his shoulders when I was a kid, and remembered him as the big goofy happy go lucky chap he had used to be. Jenna had always managed to put a brave face on things, but I suddenly realised how much of a strain running a business in these harsh economic times could be. And I suddenly knew that despite their frequent appearance, my parents alien smiles were just a mask. My heart was torn in two again as I understood just how much this stupid competition meant to him, finally getting industry recognition after all his years of graft. I knew that Effy would beat him, and in spite of my love for her, that hurt me more than I expected.

"Katie love," he beamed at me, opening his arms for my second Fitch hug of the day.

I went willingly. As much as he annoyed the fuck out of me sometimes, I loved the grumpy old bastard.

"Well done, Dad," I said.

"Too right, Katiekins, too right," he replied. "Now we're going to put this family on the map. We're not fantastic, what are we…? We're…"

"Fitchtastic," chorused James and I rolling our eyes at each other.

"Now isn't that nice," cooed Mum, entering the room. "I love it when all the family gets together. It's a pity Emily isn't hear to help us celebtrate."

"Yeah well you know she's off in New York," replied James. "Actually putting this family on the map," he muttered to me under his breath."

If Jenna heard, she wilfully ignored him.

"Anyway, dinner's ready. So why don't we all go through?" she gestured and ushered us all through to the dining room.

"What the fuck?" I said, when I discovered exploding shed boy sitting at the six-seater table. "What are you doing here?"

"I was discussing with your mother the merits of a vegetable-based diet as an addition to a healthy lifestyle," he said, in the weird even tone of his.

"Jesus, do you have to answer everything so literally?" I huffed at him.

I had been hoping for some quiet family time to gently bring up the subject of my relationship. I hadn't been banking on an audience. No such luck as Jenna breezed in behind me.

"Why don't you sit there next to JJ," she urged, in a way that would brook no argument. "Give yourselves the chance to get to know one another."

"Why would we want to get to know one another?" I scowled, whilst JJ just stared at his cutlery, a harsh shade of red creeping up is face.

"Play nice now, Katie," scolded Dad. "We're all going to be working together."

"Maybe more, who knows?" smarmed Jenna unsubtly.

She was. She was seriously trying to set me up with this geek. So what if he was supposed to be some kind of genius? I already had a genius of my own. And she was well fit. My mind drifted off to the happy place and I daydreamed about being wrapped up in a tangle of Effy for the last three days, and her invitation to be an even bigger part of her life. It was what I wanted. I just wanted to be with her. All this other nonsense was going to have to end. The sound of JJ saying the words 'Le Coeur Explosif' brought my attention crashing back into the room.

"What?" I said rather too forcefully.

"I was just asking JJ about our chances in the competition," repeated James. "Where were you?"

"Thinking about the same thing," I lied.

"Well, as I was explaining," continued JJ. "My new software gives us an advantage over a lot of the competition, and I have been doing some mathematical calculations as to the optimum distribution of material to create a consistent spectacle, but there is one company in the mix that appears to transcend my analysis. Le Coeur Explosif don't seem to follow any of the expected patterns, and yet their displays seem to inspire unprecedented levels of stimulation within their audience. I can't quite work out what I'm missing."

"Ah, but that's where we have our secret weapon," smiled Dad.

"Secret weapon?" frowned JJ.

"Our Katie's been making friends incognito," laughed Dad. "She's the fifth columnist, the cuckoo in the nest. A regular little Mata Hari."

"You've been spying on them?" said JJ, his eyes widening like saucers.

"It's industrial espionage," said Rob, his chest puffing out like he was some sort of mega-tycoon, eroding my sympathy for him.

"So what's their secret?" asked a fascinated JJ. "Special software, calculated tube placement, calibre configuration? What are their mapping structures?"

For the first time in the evening I smiled. Watching his scientific mind attempting to understand Effy was actually quite endearing.

"It's art, JJ," I explained. "She sees it all in her head."

"In her head? But… wow, that's…. that's wow…." he ground to a halt, finally rendered speechless by the concept.

"And empathy," I continued. "Just like a great artist or musician, Effy has a profound understanding of the human condition, and that's what makes her work more than mere spectacle. She can trigger our emotions."

"Oh well, that would explain things," nodded JJ. "Whilst my scientific and mathematical understanding may be considerably higher than the national average, living with Asperger's means that I score very poorly when it comes to social empathy. It would appear that this Effy has a serious advantage in that department."

"Oh," I said, feeling like a bit of a tool. No matter how odd JJ might seem to me, all of us probably seemed twice as weird to him.

"That's where Katie comes in," smiled Dad conspiratorially. "She's going to steal all of their little secrets and give us back the advantage."

Come on Katie, grow some fucking balls.

"Er, no she's not," I said quietly.

"I'm sorry," said Jenna, even though I know she'd heard me perfectly clearly.

"This spying nonsense," I replied more forcefully. "I'm not going to do it any more."

"Why not?" demanded Rob.

He and Jenna were frowning intently in my direction as if I had just betrayed them, whereas James was eyeing me with a curious half-smirk and JJ had gone back to inspecting his cutlery. The disappointment in my parents' eyes was enough to make me falter, but I had to stick to my guns. If I was ever going to be with Effy truthfully I had to start here. I had to do it for her.

"Um, because it's wrong?" I said defiantly.

"It's business," countered Dad.

"It's not business, Dad. It's cheating," I asserted. "And I don't want any part of it."

"But we need you, Katie," said Dad.

"You don't want to let the family down now, do you?" added Mum.

"No, I don't," I insisted. "But I'm not going to help this family lose their integrity either."

"It doesn't seem entirely ethical," put in JJ.

I would have to remember to apologise for being such a bitch to him later.

"But what have you been doing all this time?" asked my mother.

"I've been stringing you along," I admitted. "I've become friends with them, and I haven't really given you any information you couldn't find if you knew how use Google."

"So that's it then," she persisted angrily. "You're happy to let that girl and her cronies take away our family livelihood? Are we suddenly not important to you any more?"

"It's not like that," I insisted. "Of course you're important to me."

"Then why won't you help us?" said Dad.

"I just can't, ok?" I said in frustration. "I can't do that to her. I can't do that to Effy."

"Why ever not?" persisted Mum. "What the blazes is so special about this Effy? And why does this bitch matter more to you than your family."

I slammed my hands down on the table, and pushed my chair back as I stood. Jenna had such a knack of pushing us to our limits it was almost a gift. If Emily had been here she would have helped to diffuse the situation, but hearing Mum call Effy a bitch, pushed me right over the edge.

"Because I'm in love with her," I yelled. "Effy is my girlfriend. And she's wonderful, and beautiful and talented and one of the most amazing people I've ever met. And I'm not going to fuck her over, because she doesn't deserve it. She gets work because she's bloody good at what she does and I won't do anything to hurt her. I won't."

"I knew it," said James, dancing about in delight. "I knew you were shagging her. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about her art, I haven't heard you talk about anyone like that since Anna. You've gone all Stockholm syndrome on our ass. Is she as fit as Anna? Cause Anna was seriously sexy."

I ignored my little brother's enthusiasm and focussed instead on the resounding silence emanating from my parents as they took in the news.

"But she's French," said Jenna eventually.

"What?" I said incredulously. "What the fuck has that got to do with anything?"

"You can't trust them," she replied.

"Jesus, Mum. Xenophobic much? I'm the one who's been lying to her, not the other way round. I love her, Mum, like really love her. She wants us to live together, and I can't live this fucking lie any more."

"Katie, you know me and your father are very supportive of your sister's sexuality, and of you too if you want to head that way again," said Jenna. "But there's plenty of girls out there. I don't understand why you can't find yourself a nice girl like Emily's Naomi."

"Falling in love is not a choice, Mum," I said. "You don't choose love. It chooses you."

"Well then you should encourage it to choose a little more wisely," she scoffed. "I never liked that Russian girl, and look what happened with her…."

"Yeah well, I may have driven her to it," I confessed. "Effy makes me happy, Mum. Don't you want that for me?"

"Of course I do, but couldn't you be happy with somebody else?"

"I'm a Fitch," I said, holding up my hands and staring back at both of them. "I was born and raised a pyrochick, and whatever else I've done in my life I can't escape that. It's in my blood. And I found a beautiful girl who lives and breathes explosions and turns them into something profound and emotional. Of course I was going to fall in love with her. I didn't fall in love with her in spite of you. I fell in love with her because of you."

"But what about the competition?" asked Rob.

"Dad, could you really live with yourself knowing that you'd won by unfair means?" I asked. "If you want to be the best, then do your best, and maybe Wonderboy here will help you win it. But win it for real. Win it with his science and your experience, and if that's not enough then so be it. At least you made the cut."

I stared Dad out, two proud Fitches locking horns. I know we had both been swimming in some morally grey waters of late, but he was my Dad and he had made me, and I knew that at heart he was a good man. In the end it was James who broke the silence.

"So when do I get to meet her?" he boomed enthusiastically.

"Not yet," I replied, with a little bit too much zeal.

"Oh my God," he said. "She doesn't know you're a Fitch! That's going to be a fun conversation."

I wanted to smack him round the head like I did when we were younger, but in my heart I knew he was right. That conversation was going to suck, but it was something that needed doing. I stormed out of the house determined to jump in that car and drive straight back to the barn, but as soon as my key was in the ignition another tidal wave of apprehension crashed over me. Annoyed as they were my parents would forgive me. They were my parents and they kind of had to. We had had our fair share of shouting matches over the years but at the end of the day we would always be bound by an unbreakable love. But what if Effy didn't forgive me? There was nothing to tie her to me. She could just leave. She could go back to France. Shit, she could go back to fucking Freddie. She could go back to fucking anyone fit who took an interest. Effy had a hundred different ways in which she could leave me, and the thought of that fucking terrified me. In the end I went back to my flat, hid my head under the duvet, and didn't come out for the next day and a half.

For all it was a cowardly move, it gave me time to think. What was my overriding motivation in all this? When I thought about it clearly it was simple. Effy made me happy. I wanted to be with her. The way my heart had fluttered when she asked me to move in with her was evidence enough of that. My parents would forgive me, they had to. They were kind of genetically programmed to love me. If they could meet Eff and see how happy she made me, they would eventually have to come around. But Effy's love was optional. She was under no obligation to stay with me at all. I had to admit to myself that I was terrified of that, and it was that fear that had been constricting my actions. But I couldn't conceal my identity forever, and if the feeling between us was as real as it appeared to be, surely we could find some way to get through this. The questions swirled around in my head, but increasingly they began to point to only one answer. I had to tell her, and I had to tell her now.

Ok, well 'now' being after the two hours it took me to get ready. After a long hot shower I changed outfits several times, before deciding on a figure hugging silver dress that was given to me by no less than Alessandro himself, before I disgraced myself by lamping Tamara in the face at his runway show. It was probably a little over the top for a Thursday night in Bristol, but I wanted to look as hot as fuck, in order to help Effy decide that even though I was a lying bitch, she couldn't live without me, and that even if we argued like harpies, there would be some hot and angry make up sex to make her forget about my betrayal. I planned my make up so that it would complement the outfit perfectly, and once I was finally satisfied with my war paint I looked back into the mirror with a smile on my face. I might finally be going to do the right thing, but there was no harm going into battle with every weapon I had available to me. I took one shot of vodka, little enough so I could still drive, but enough to give me some fire in my belly. So this was it. No more excuses. Time to introduce Effy to Katie Fucking Fitch.

When I got to the barn it was Thomas who opened the door to me.

"Oh Katie," he said warmly, gesturing for me to come in. "It is very good that you are here."

His warmth wasn't replicated by Freddie, who came thundering down the stairs as soon as he heard my voice.

"Oh, so you've decided to show up, have you?" he spat. "She doesn't fucking need this, you know."

"Get over it, Freds," shouted Cook from the top of the stairs. "What she needs is her fucking girlfriend. And none of us need your shite."

"What the fuck is going on?" I said nervously, as I clocked the sombre demeanours on the faces of all the boys.

"Come up," said Cook, indicating that he didn't want to shout.

Freddie turned on his heels and slammed his way out of the front door.

"It's ok," encouraged Thomas, squeezing my arm. "It can just be a little bit of a shock if you haven't seen it before."

"What can?" I urged, but Cook was impatient.

"Come on, Katie babes," he said.

I was up those stairs frighteningly quickly for a woman in five inch heels. I caught Cook checking out my outfit and rolled my eyes at him.

"You're looking mint, babes," he said, unaffected by my censure. "Hopefully that will help."

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on any time soon?" I shouted.

"It's Effy," he said quietly.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"In the living room," he replied.

I went to push past him, but he grabbed me by the arm and stopped me. It was only the look of genuine concern etched into his face, that stopped me from smacking him one.

"Easy tiger," he said, forcing me to take a deep breath and remember that Cook was my friend and my ally.

"Effy's not well, darlin'," he said. "And it's been a long time since she's been this bad. She's not really fallen this hard since you showed up. I was beginning to think she'd made a real step forward."

"What's happened, Cook?"

"She's gets almost catatonic. She won't speak to you or hardly even acknowledge you. Back in the day we used to think it was because she was off her head. Now we know that she got off her head because of this.

"Is she on anything now?" I asked.

"Nah, luckily me and the boys had a bit of a blowout after the show when you and Effy we trying to demolish the hotel, so we used up all our stash and she hasn't had the energy to go and get anything more," he replied. "But she does have a bottle of vodka superglued to her hand, and God protect the person who tries to take it away from her."

"Is there anything I should or shouldn't do?"

"Just be Katie," he sighed. "It seems to be the best fucking medicine."

When I entered the room I could see Effy sitting motionless on one of the sofas. In front of her lay a pile of torn up paper from what looked like one of my fashion magazines. She was staring beyond it though, looking dead-eyed at a random patch on the carpet, the bottle of vodka cradled up into her chest as if it was her child.

"You gonna share some of that, bitch?" I asked her.

I'll admit it was a crude approach, but I didn't really know a different way. Aggressive love had been my go to method of treatment for years with Emily, when she was have one of her artistic traumas. I knew that this was more more serious than that, but Cook had told me to be myself. Effy didn't look up, but a tiny change in her body stance assured me she had heard me.

"Well?" I challenged her.

"I was going to drink it all myself," she murmured almost inaudibly.

"Well think again, loser," I said, plonking myself down beside her as if everything was ordinary.

She raised her head to look at me, and it was everything I could do not to just cry. There was a dreadful coldness in her eyes. No trace of the steely blue energy that had so entranced me when we first met. No trace of any emotion. None of the love that normally filled her gaze when she saw me. But no anger either. Just nothing. It was like looking out into the empty depths of space with no stars to light my way. I, on the other hand was a raging sun of emotion. Fear, guilt, love and a pain so huge it felt like I was burning in my own fire. The weak side of me wanted to run as far as I could away from the terrifying sight in front of me, but I had to force myself to be strong and to hold that unspeakable gaze. Somewhere there was a tiny flicker of life, and Effy looked down at the bottle, before holding it out to me.

"Cheers, babes," I said, opening it and taking a hefty swig, but before I could replace the top Effy had snatched it from my grip and started gulping down great mouthfuls as if she was chugging a beer. I lost my self-control.

"Jesus, Effy. Stop!" I said, tugging at her hands.

"Why?" she said, when I had finally prised to bottle from her hands.

"You'll hurt yourself," I replied earnestly.

"So," she shrugged.

This was no attention-seeking tantrum. She really didn't care what happened to her. Her deep space eyes were back and this time I didn't have the strength to face them. I broke away from her gaze and looked down at the torn up paper beside us. All of them were images of Anna, torn out of my magazines and creatively and somewhat crudely defaced. It was somewhat of a shock to see my former lover subjected to this treatment, not least to be exposed so graphically to the inner workings of Effy's brain. My eyes were stinging from trying to hold back my tears, and my faux blasé attitude crumbled around me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have run off like that. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you."

There was a silence that held me in its stranglehold, but still I couldn't find the will to face her emptiness again.

But then I felt a touch. It was the lightest of touches. So delicate I could barely register it, but I felt her fingers brush against the back of my hand.

"It isn't you," she whispered.

"But," I said, raising my head once more.

"This has been happening to me for as long as I can remember," she interrupted me. "Since long before I ever fell into those beautiful brown eyes. I'm not like this cause of you. I'm like this cause I'm sick. I've got nothing to be depressed about and yet here I am."

"What about…?" I cast my eyes downwards to the mutilated pictures of Anna.

"Distraction," said Effy, with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "I'm not really doing voodoo on your ex."

"So what's it like?" I asked her.

"It fucking hurts," she said, but even the emergence of pain in her eyes was an improvement of that awful void. "It hurts so much I'll do almost anything to numb it."

"Then let me numb it for you," I said, taking her face in my hands.

"Can you?" she said softly.

"I can try," I said.

I gave into instinct. Seeing the woman I loved in such pain, I did the only thing I could think of. I kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, but Effy responded almost immediately, ungraciously pushing her tongue into my mouth. I was a little taken aback, but I let her, pleased to be getting a reaction however crude. I could feel my body beginning to react, and I wasn't quite sure how to handle it, but it was Effy herself that stopped it.

"No," she said.

"No?" I replied with a question.

"No," she said a little more firmly. "I could fuck you. I want to fuck you. I could blank it all out with sex. It's what I used to do. But it would be empty, and I don't want to do that with you. It feels all wrong. You're worth more than that."

"Then I have another idea," I told her, standing up and holding out my hand. She stood up to join me, reaching for the bottle as she came.

"I think we've had enough of that," I said, easing it from her hands.

I tossed the bottle back down onto the sofa and pulled her into a gentle embrace. She let me hold her, and I felt a wetness run down my neck as she allowed herself to cry.

"You do make it better, you know," she whispered. "I might not be able to stop it happening, but at least I know that it's not my fault. You've helped me to understand that."

I led her to the bathroom and ran us a bath, finding some scented bubbles I had bought her as a present from Lush. As the steam from the hot water filled the room, I slowly helped her to undress, slipping out of my fabulous outfit so that she wouldn't feel so vulnerable and alone.

"You looked lovely tonight," she murmured, once we were both naked.

"I was dressing up for you," I shrugged.

"Sorry I'm so useless," she sighed.

"You're not useless," I assured her. "Never think that. I never do."

I took her hand and led us both into the bath, sitting down behind her so I could wrap her in my arms. I held her in the comforting embrace of the water, occasionally gracing her back with affectionate, non-sexual kisses.

"You won't leave me, will you," she said suddenly.

"God no," I said in alarm. "I'll always be there for you. Just don't give up hope."

I felt her fingers tighten around my hand as she brought it up to her lips.

"Where there's love, there's always hope," she said.

I grabbed the soap and began to wash her, deliberately keeping my movements as gentle as I could. I wanted her to know that this was not about sex, but about a deep and profound love. I wanted her to feel how much I cared about her, that she didn't always have to be cool or fucking sexy, that whatever evil tricks her mind decided to play on her, I was always going to be there to help her through it. I wanted her to feel loved, so she could find her way to hope. I washed the whole of her body, and then moved onto her hair, cupping water in my hands to pour on her. She remained passive, too tired from fighting the pain to do anything else, but she let her body move against mine. She let me massage her head and I could feel some of the tension begin to leave her body. We stopped talking, and just existed in the now, and I felt thankful that she was letting me in, allowing herself to react. In however small a way, she was letting me bring her back from the darkness. Next time she spoke, she took me completely by surprise.

"Why don't you want to live with me?" she asked.

"But I do, Effs," I countered in shock. "I want it more than anything."

"Then why did you run?"

Fuck, fuck and treble triple thousand fuck. The heavy weight of my deception clamped down on my shoulders again. I had spent the last day and a half building up my determination to come clean. I felt sure she must have felt my heart pounding into her back. I wanted so badly to rid myself of this burden and confess, but there was no fucking way I was going to do that to her while she was so fragile. I simply couldn't just throw my betrayal in her face.

"The competition, babes," I told her. "I didn't want to piss on Freddie's fire. I know this is a big deal for you all, and I didn't think it was a good idea to wind him up. You need to keep him onside right now. He's mad enough at me as it is."

"Fuck," hissed Effy. "You're right. Fuck, I need to get my brain back together. How the fuck am I going to do that?"

"We just need to be calm," I said. "When we get out of this bath you're going to fall asleep in my arms. I'll take care of you, you'll be safe. And tomorrow you're going to eat something."

The guilty look that Effy flashed me over her shoulder told me that I was correct in my assumption that food had been a stranger to her over the last couple of days.

"We need to get you well," I said. "I'll stay. I'll get you anything you need, and once you're strong enough we'll get the boys together and make a plan. We'll take things step by step until you're ready to make the most beautiful design of your life, and all of us will be there ready to bring it to life."

Effy swivelled round until she was kneeling facing me.

"Do you think I can do this?" she asked me.

"You're Effy Fucking Stonem," I replied. "I think you can do anything you like."

I was true to my word and watched her as she fell asleep in her arms. I stayed awake gently stroking her as she slept. Eventually she turned away from me and curled herself into a foetal position. I slipped out of the bed and stood watching her in the moonlight drifting down through the skylight. I knew I would stay with her as long as she would have me, but the enormity of what we had just been through shook me to me bones and I threw on some of Effy's clothes and sneaked out of the bedroom to give myself a little room to breathe. I found Cook in his workshop, sitting on top of one of his sculptures smoking a spliff. I climbed gingerly up to join him.

"Gimme some of that," I said.

"Knock yourself out," he said, passing me the joint.

We smoked silently for several minutes, and I felt the drug easing its way into my harassed muscles.

"How is she?" asked Cook.

"Better," I said. "Well not better but you know… better."

"Good," he said. "You know I really did like you, Katie. You could have made an honest man out of me."

"Really?" I said sceptically.

"For real," he grinned. "But I'm happy. I'm happy to give that up to give her a chance at happiness."

"Who'd have thought it," I said. "You really are a gentleman underneath it all."

"Don't let on," he smirked. "You could ruin my reputation."

"You really do love her, don't you?" I said.

"Don't we all?" he replied.

He slipped his arm around me, and I nuzzled willingly into his side. It felt good to let myself be comforted by his strength.

"Just don't forget that I'm here for you too," he told me.

At first it was just one tear. I felt it roll down my cheek until I could taste it on my lips. But soon it was followed by more, and then more again until it became an uncontrollable flood. I wasn't even really sad, but the release of emotion was a blessed relief, and I let go of it all, sobbing silently into Cook's shoulder and soaking his shirt. I promised myself that some day soon I would make everything right. That I would be brave, and strong and honest. I would admit my wrongs and take the flak that was due to me. I would be the warrior that Katie Fitch once was again. But just for now it was ok to be a scared little girl, getting by with a little help from my friends.


	25. Learning Curve

**Hey there SJ. I hope you are enjoying your freedom xx**

25. Learning Curve

Effy

On dit qu'arrêter d'apprendre c'est arrêter de vivre. To believe you know it all is perhaps a little death in itself, I think. Back in my allegedly cool youth, people used to say I looked at them as if I knew every secret in the universe. I used to play along cause it got me shags, but I knew the mask was concealing a screaming, howling confusion that tormented my every waking hour. Conversely, I have learnt a hell of a lot in the last month, and I have never felt more alive. Firstly I have learned that what I have is real. My condition is not going to disappear, however happy I might be. It helps, of course it fucking helps, but I remain vulnerable. It can be triggered at any time, and not necessarily by anything tangible. Katie was racked by guilt that my last little episode kicked off because she ran out on me for a few days, but despite whatever might have come out of my mouth when I was under the influence, I knew that Katie had her own shit to deal with, and in the end I was profoundly grateful that she had chosen me to love, especially considering the extreme hotness of the competition.

The second thing I learned was that there are better medications than vodka and cocaine. And that accepting medication into my life doesn't make me any less of a person. I've finally come to accept the hypocrisy of refusing any kind of formalised help, whilst happily dosing myself to the point of toxicity. I talked to a doctor and I've got some pills now, des petites doses de magie chimique qui gardent les ténèbres à distance. Maybe they'll work, maybe they won't. I guess only time will tell. The one thing I know for sure is that I won't get trapped in a cycle of addictive medication with no-one to watch my back because, as Katie continually assures me, she's 'not going to let some creepy assed quack push me around'. As it happens my doctor is lovely, and explained all my choices properly before I committed to anything. Like I said, only time will tell as to their effectiveness, but I feel pretty good right now.

Of course that could have something to do with lesson number three. Being with someone who is prepared to confront my illness head on, instead of trying to smother it is exhilarating. I'm still ambivalent about the pills, and very cautious about their effect on my creativity. Surely to be an artist, is to be a little bit crazy by definition, the trick is to be able to manage it, to harness all those forces, good and bad and release them into your work. But the one thing that I am absolutely certain of is Katie. She may not want to officially live at the barn yet, and I don't blame her for that, but she is here more often than she is not, and every time I wake up next to that exquisite landscape of curves, I know it's going to be a better day. She doesn't try to hide the elephant in the room, she dons a showgirl costume and fucking rides around on it. She finds out what I need and she makes sure everyone knows about it.

Those first few days were hard. I was still fighting my way through the quicksand, and I wouldn't even let her kiss me. Je ne voulais pas qu'elle fasse l'amour à un fantôme. I shuddered at the memory of how many times I had let Freddie touch me even though I was barely there, and I was determined never to put her through that. She would fucking notice for one thing. But slowly, she drew me out of my shell and I felt myself coming back to life. She never rushed me or pushed me, although she wouldn't refrain from encouraging me to try a little harder if she thought I could take it. She ordered the boys around, getting them to do everything they could to support me, and to be honest I think they secretly enjoyed it. She and Cook even took a show out without me. It was a simple show, but I let Cook do the majority of the design, sitting in my pyjamas on the sofa and helping him with the programming. You should have seen him when they got back, the excitement practically etched onto his face in glowing neon letters. He made me laugh as he danced around the room throwing vodka down his neck. I knew how he felt, I had been there. The thrill of firing burning through my veins. Cook was way too high to give me a decent account of the show, but the proud smile on Katie's face told me everything I needed to know.

I saw him whispering in her ear, and she nodded and gave his arm a squeeze. He pulled a bag of powder out of the inside pocket of his jacket, and grabbed the mirror from the bookshelf. I smiled again, enjoying the fact that everything now had to be submitted to Katie's approval around me. Not that I was immune myself.

"Do you think I should?" I asked her quietly, as I watched Cook racking out some lines of coke.

"Effy honey, you know your own body better than anyone," she told me. "What do you think?"

I think I fucking love you more than anything on this earth, that's what I think.

"I want to," I admitted.

"For fun, or because you've got bad brains?" she asked me.

It was the first time I'd ever taken the time to think about it instead of just taking whatever was on offer whenever I could. It was an interesting revelation.

"For fun," I said, and it wasn't a lie. "I want to celebrate Cook's victory."

"Then go for it, sweetie," she replied. "I've got your back."

And fun was had. We got trashed, danced around to songs, talked a bunch of crap, and ended up engaged in some fantastically incompetent competition on the Wii at about five in the morning. I don't think I had laughed as much in one evening in my entire life. It was a glorious release of tension and an explosion of positive energy, and all of us had a blast. At least me, Katie, Thomas and Cook did. Freddie was there but he spent most of his time scowling in the corner, and I wondered if he would ever get over it. Katie had replaced him, not only as my lover but as my primary carer, and now Cook's star was rising too. At Katie's instigation I had chosen Cook over him to front the gig, and there is only so much the delicate male ego can take. But far from being the Yoko Ono of the group he had imagined her to be, Katie got on fine with the other lads and there was a sense that his influence in the business was waning too, that we'd be able to carry on fine without him.

It wasn't true. We still needed him. I still needed him. I might be the brains behind the operation, Cook the heart, and Thomas its soul, But Freddie's was the face through which we communicated with the world. Much as though I wanted to throw caution to the winds and plunge headlong into my relationship with her without a second thought, Katie had been right to take things seriously. A lesser person would have done anything she could to get her rival out of the way, but she had recognised his importance to all of us and tried her best not to piss him off. But she could do nothing about the way I looked at her when she danced, or the way his eyes clouded with darkness when he caught me doing it. Je ne voulais pas le perdre mais, maintenant que j'avais goûté au bonheur, je ne voulais pas perdre ça non plus.

I don't remember getting to bed that night, but I do remember waking up with my lover the following day. The sun was streaming in through the skylights in my room, so it must have been some time in the afternoon. The rays were dancing across her precious skin, making it glow the colour of honey. Her deep brown eyes were already upon me as I blinked myself back into consciousness, and she was smiling at me. I felt bathed in an undisputed love, and the warmth that smouldered through my bones had nothing to do with the sun.

"Good morning, beautiful," she said.

I've been told I was beautiful all my life, but no-one has ever made me feel it the way Katie does. C'est la simplicité de sa passion qui rend le doute futile. For the most part such protestations are driven by the intent to get in my pants, but for her it is simply a statement of the facts. We haven't made love since she found me in the clutches of the darkness, but at no point have I sensed any impatience on her part. Her love is unequivocal, and I adore her for that.

We were lying face to face, and for several minutes we just took the time to stare at each other. Our smiles grew gradually wider as we drank in the person who inspired such a carefree devotion in our hearts. Sometimes when I look at her like this, I can't quite believe that she's real. That after all this time I have found someone with whom I feel safe enough to let the mask drop completely. Katie has been witness to all the darkest parts of me, and there she still was, grinning at me like I was simply the most delightful thing she had ever discovered. Not getting angry or frustrated with my faults, simply waiting until I could find the strength to be with her again. This was the final thing I had learned, and finally learned to appreciate. Katie was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I suddenly felt the overwhelming need to kiss her, and reached over to curl my hand around her neck. The first touch of those beautiful soft lips on mine was pure comfort. It didn't matter that I was a mental case, and probably looked like microwaved shit after the excesses of the night before, she still wanted my caress, still wanted this intimate physical conversation. Son tendre accord était tout ce dont j'avais besoin pour savoir qu'aujourd'hui serait encore une journée souriante. A day that would be worth doing battle with the darkness for, because someone believed in me. Because I was loved. Incomplete, fractured and fucked up as I was, I was loved. She told me too, over and over again as we lay there snogging in the afternoon sun. "I fucking love you, Effy," like it was a mantra. Like it was her faith.

She was careful too, keeping her kisses light and non-invasive, hiding any evidence of inappropriate desire, letting me set the pace, showing me she was still happy to wait for me. It was a beautiful gesture, and one that did not go unappreciated. It meant a lot to me that she had understood that I was not rejecting her, but that I wanted to give her a more complete version of myself. But as her talented lips continued to dance across me so lovingly and so generously, I felt my depressed libido roaring back into life like a sleeping dragon raised from its slumbers. I began to kiss her more deeply, and I felt her body stiffen as she attempted to conceal any evidence of arousal without pulling away. It was simply too fucking cute, and a cheeky devil rose up inside me telling me to see how far I could tease her before she cracked.

Of course I wasn't going to do anything as obvious as grabbing her tits, but I began to subtly undulate my body as I slid my tongue oh so slightly deeper into her mouth. I could tell she felt it by the quickening of her breath, but still she trod the noble path and tried to restrain her impulses. That would never do. I started to ghost my fingers over her skin. Lightly enough that it could be taken as pure affection, but I knew my Katie. It might appear that my touch was drifting aimlessly, but I had memorised this body and like a pirate memorising a map, I knew exactly where to find the treasure. One by one, I began to stimulate all of Katie's special little spots. Oh so tenderly, and yet with such a fiendish intent, I could feel the tension rising in her as she struggled to control her body's natural reactions. I ran my index finger lightly over the top curve of her ear. I drew infinity signs on the not insubstantial muscle of her bicep. I marked out the crossed sign of a kiss on the inside of her wrist. The understated movement of her hips was almost a tremble, as my innocently iniquitous fingers marked their progress on her flesh, but I was saving the best for last. There's a spot at the base of her spine, just where her back meets the curve of her arse, and every time I touch it, it releases something primal in her. I fucking love that spot.

I knew she was already struggling as I brushed a painting of sensation down her back. I drew my hand away, giving her a moment to catch her breath, before I drew her into another tender kiss. And then I struck, swerving all four fingers in an S shape across her special spot. Her moan exploded into my mouth, and her whole body shuddered into spasm. She pulled away from me in shock.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It was just, fuck, I couldn't help it."

"Couldn't help what?" I teased, as I retraced the devil's path again.

"Oh God," cried Katie. "It's too much, I can't…"

"That's ok, darling," I said, sliding myself on top of her. "You don't have to."

"Are you sure?" she said breathlessly. "I don't want to force you into anything you're not ready for."

"Not an issue," I replied. "The question is, are _you _ready for this?"

I slid my thigh hard against her pussy as I pushed my tongue deep into her mouth. Her arms flew round my back, and she pulled me tight against her, her legs opening beneath me and her hips pushing upwards, inviting me in. Now I'm the kind of girl that never likes to refuse an invite to a party, so I slipped my hand between our unquiet bodies to give my lover everything she deserves. She was so wet I nearly lost my cool and shattered my dominatrix attitude at the first touch.

"Oh my fucking, my fucking, fuck," or some such nonsense hurtled out of my mouth.

Even now it still comes as a shock that I can do this to her, but that afternoon as she slipped seamlessly from being my carer to being my lover, it was nothing short of a revelation. Even after pulling me from the depths of my depression, when I became a lifeless, useless husk, she still found me desirable and the evidence was spilling out all over my hand.

C'est purement mon instinct qui me fit plonger au plus profond d'elle et c'est ce même instinct qui me força à pousser plus fort en entendant les cris que j'avais éveillés en elle. Katie's arms were shackled tight around my back, and she pushed back up against me with all the strength she had.

"Oh God Effy, fuck me. Please fuck me," she yelled into my ear.

What could I do? I fucked her. I was powerless to do anything else in the face of such compelling need. In that moment I lived to give her everything she wanted, and I plunged myself into that sodden paradise again and again and again. She took me, she totally fucking owned me, consuming me with her gorgeously powerful cunt. I was shaking and sweating as I thrust into her faster and faster. My face found its way to her tits, and I buried myself there, planting my mouth around her nipples and sucking on her till she gasped. One of her hands wrapped tightly into my hair, pulling me aggressively into her breast. The other was pushed hard into the bed, giving her leverage with which to force her hips against me with increasing violence. My name was the punctuation for a cacophony of curses that sang from her mouth in both of our languages as we propelled ourselves towards her orgasm.

Her climax came in a cyclone of carnality and emotion. It was so fucking beautiful, I would have cried had I not been so busy clinging on for dear life as Katie flung us around the bed. I knew I had been right not to fuck her when I was ill, because _this_ was what she truly deserved. A passion so grand it destroyed everything in its path. Even the fucking darkness.

"What the fucking fuck was that?" were the first words out of her mouth more than several minutes later.

"Tu m'as manqué," I said truthfully.

"I've been right here, babes," she said soothingly, though even now slightly breathless.

"Yeah, but I haven't," I replied. "I got lost again."

"I'll find you," she said, making it sound like a promise. "I'll always find you, and bring you back home again."

A fire began to burn inside my chest when she said the word 'home'. From the sense she gave me that 'home' was something that we shared. No longer was I a lonely stranger fumbling around in the twilight. I had a beacon to guide me out of the shadows. I had somewhere to go. I had a home, and home was wrapped lazily around the body of a sweaty, just fucked Katie Ford.

There were many filthy worn-out snogs and declarations of love in the hour that followed, completed by the most spectacular fucking of one Effy Stonem, and with a grand finale featuring Bristol's most scandalous shower. All of which led to me grinning in smug delight as I watched Katie towelling herself dry, and pondering on whether I should just get her wet all over again. She smirked back at me when she caught me perving.

"Feeling better then?" she said cheekily.

"Much better thanks, Doctor K," I replied.

"Good," she said, coming to straddle me as I perched on the edge of the bath, sending fire spinning outwards through my limbs again. "Well then, it's time to get off your lazy arse, and start working on your competition design."

She kissed me roughly, and then span away and out of the bathroom before I had time to blink. That was my Katie – part goddess, part sergeant-major, and I fucking worshipped her for it.

.

.

.

So now when I look in the mirror I no longer see a drug-fuelled freak who got lucky when she discovered she had some kind of talent. I see a woman with an obstacle she is determined to overcome, surrounded by people who will do anything in their power to help her. And I can laugh at this new found optimism that I will actually succeed in my mission to prove myself. When I look into the eyes that have always seemed to hold such a fascination for the outside world, I can see a sparkle I've not seen there before. I've put on weight, but trust me that's no bad thing. I now resemble a woman rather than a sack of bones. My skin has colour and my very heart seems to beat more easily. Food tastes better, and every other sense seems to operate more keenly. My mind feels sharper than ever, and when Katie kicked my butt and got me moving again, the inspiration began to fire out of me in a chain reaction, each bright idea sparking a dozen more.

We got to Plymouth yesterday and as I stood looking out over the harbour after the first day's rigging on our site, I knew I had a killer design. I projected my mind outwards to where most of the audience would be standing and imagined how it would look from their point of view. I had it all mapped out in my head. During the prep I had Google mapped every possible perspective and envisioned the whole work of art I would create and the emotional response I wanted to trigger in the backs of people's consciousness. It was going to be fucking beautiful. I was going to make their hearts explode.

I felt the lightest of touches on the small of my back, but it was no cause for alarm. I knew it was Katie. I could sense her. J'ai toujours su que la nature m'avait douée d'un sens aigu de la perception; mais l'intimité semblait le décupler. I had never revealed myself to anyone the way I had to her, but instead of bringing terrors and constrictions it had only seemed to bring rewards. I had always resented the idea of needing someone as much as I had the idea of becoming dependent of prescription drugs, but it seemed that both were capable of offering me some form of liberation.

"Happy" she asked me in the casual fashion that regular people ask each other all time. I spun around and pulled her into my arms with a kiss.

"Yes," I replied.

And it was the truth. This love had the power to change everything, and Katie was its iridescent core. I believed in her.

"Cook's whining about getting some food before the shows start," she said.

"That boy loves his stomach almost as much as he loves his dick," I smirked.

Katie's magical laugh rippled all around me and I squeezed her hand before releasing her and heading back to join the boys.

With our bellies full of Indian, we wandered back down to the harbour to join the audience for the first of the night's displays. Three companies were firing tonight, whereas we were firing last of three tomorrow. It was a double-edged sword - we would be the most recent in the judges' memories, but their eyes would have already been jaded by the displays that had gone before us. Once again I closed my eyes and played out the shapes and colours that would fill the sky from here tomorrow. I felt confident, I knew that I had made something good. Now bring on the competition.

The first two displays were competent and nicely planned, but nothing to write home about and certainly nothing to have me quaking in my boots, but the final show piqued my interest. Their music choices were as mainstream as fuck, but the pyro itself had been put together with an unusual precision. The use of space and the way the material filled the sky was excellent. There was a good range of colour and height and the sound to light choreography was needle sharp. I had to admit I was impressed, and there was some material in there that I struggled to identify. It was definitely the one that stood out from the night's offerings, but there was something about it that bothered me. It was too perfect, too clinical. It was almost as if the design had been done by a machine programmed to calculate the most efficient way of operating a fireworks display. It was slick, but emotionless. There was no sense of reaching out to an audience, as if it was only to be observed by other machines programmed to appreciate efficiency of the first one.

It was science, not art. Pour moi l'important c'est le public; il faut les laisser avec une émotion. For me, it's about something more than spectacle. More than something that can be forgotten the minute you walk down the road to get chips afterwards. It's about creating a memory, not just something that burns away as soon as the retina has released the information to the brain. Without our audience we are nothing but a bunch of geeks messing around with explosives in a very big backyard. That's not to say that this outfit wasn't dangerous. Some people aren't looking for art, they just want efficiency and value for money. They don't much care about anything other than things going boom, and getting the crowd to go 'oooh!' There are plenty of events where this company would do extremely well, and if the judges were of that opinion then this group was definitely the strongest competition.

"These are the people we are going to have to beat," I announced to the general atmosphere. "Who are they?"

"This is Fitchtastic Fireworks," replied Thomas looking at his programme.

"Really?" I said in surprise. "They're a lot better than last time I saw them."

"Word is they've got some new whizzkid designer in tow," said Freddie.

"Whizzkid or no whizzkid they can get to fuck," interjected Cook. "Cause we've got our very own Pyrogoddess!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cook," I laughed. "What do you think, Katie?"

She just shrugged in reply. She had seemed a lot quieter than usual tonight, on edge somehow, but I knew she got a lot more nervous for me than I ever did on my own behalf.

"Come on, Katie," insisted Cook. "Those bozos don't stand a chance. We are gonna fucking destroy them."

We had a couple of pints after that, but despite Cook's protestations that it was a Saturday night and we should road test Plymouth's nightlife, common sense prevailed and we simply got a couple of carry outs and headed back to the hotel. I might be feeling good about my design, but we still had to rig it right and make sure the bloody thing fired. The boys were all sharing a big room so we crowded into there and ended up watching Jools Holland's 'Later' on TV. Freddie had been smoking since we knocked off work and had been consumed by a monster case of the munchies, so he had gone off to the all-night garage to arm himself with snacks. The rest of us were debating the shagability of the girl fronting one of the bands on the telly, when we heard him knocking thunderously on the door. Thomas got up to open it and was almost pushed off his feet, by Freddie storming aggressively into the room, his features contorted in rage.

"What's the matter Fredmonster?" asked Cook. "Did they not have any Jaffa Cakes?"

"_That_ is what's the matter," he said, hurling a newspaper down onto one of the beds.

"The Plymouth Herald," said Thomas, picking up the offending article. "What have you got against the Plymouth Herald?"

"Page four," spat Freddie angrily.

"Giz it here then," said Cook, snatching the paper from Thomas's hands.

"What's all the commotion?" asked Katie, returning from the toilet.

"Whoa, Katie man," exclaimed Cook. "You've got a fucking double."

He held up the picture for all of us to see.

"She has a twin sister," I added helpfully.

"Who's holding hands with Naomi Diamond!" spluttered Cook.

"Who's Naomi Diamond?" I asked.

"She's a model," replied Cook, turning the picture back and openly drooling. "And she's got more mint than the friggin' Bank of England. What is it with you Ford girls and fucking supermodels? You have to tell me your secrets."

"Read the fucking caption, Cook," insisted Freddie.

I thought it was a bit of a tall order asking Cook to focus on words when there were two hot girls he could be looking at, but to my surprise he gave it a go. I looked over to share the joke with Katie, only to discover she had gone a ghostly shade of white, and her eyes were wide with fear.

"The gorgeous Naomi Diamond and her partner, filmmaker Emily Fitch," read Cook. "The celebrity couple are in Plymouth to support Emily's family who are taking part in the annual fireworks competition in the harbour tonight. I can't believe your sister's going out with Naomi Diamond, man. That's fucking unreal."

"Cook, will you get your head out of your dick for five seconds," yelled Freddie, grabbing the newspaper and starting to wave it in my face.

To be honest, I hadn't really paid attention, my brain overwhelmed by a sudden concern for Katie's welfare. The poor girl looked terrified, and it was ripping me apart. But Freddie wasn't about to let me get away with that

"Her partner Emily _Fitch_," he enunciated at me loudly and slowly, like a monolingual Englishman trying to make himself understood abroad. "_Fitch_, as in Fitchtastic Fireworks. Fucking Fitchtastic Fireworks who have suddenly gotten a whole lot better since you became 'friends' with Katie."

His eyes narrowed and bored viciously straight into mine. Le chiot perdu était devenu un grand méchant loup.

"Your girlfriend's a fucking spy," he said.

.

.

.

Frogatastic French

1. On dit qu'arrêter d'apprendre c'est arrêter de vivre.

They say if you ever stop learning, you might as well die.

2..des petites doses de magie chimique qui gardent les ténèbres à distance.

little doses of chemical magic to keep the darkness at bay.

3. Je ne voulais pas qu'elle fasse l'amour à un fantôme.

I just didn't want to make love to her as a ghost.

4. Je ne voulais pas le perdre mais, maintenant que j'avais goûté au bonheur, je ne voulais pas perdre ça non plus.

I didn't want to lose him, but now that I had tasted happiness, I didn't want to lose that either.

5. C'est la simplicité de sa passion qui rend le doute futile.

There is a simplicity to her passion that makes it impossible to doubt her.

6. Son tendre accord était tout ce dont j'avais besoin pour savoir qu'aujourd'hui serait encore une bonne une journée souriante.

Her gentle acceptance was all I needed to know that today would be another good day.

7. C'est purement mon instinct qui me fit plonger au plus profond d'elle et c'est ce même instinct qui me força à pousser plus fort en entendant les cris que j'avais éveillés en elle.

It was pure instinct that made me push myself inside her, and instinct that made me push harder when I heard the cries that it provoked.

8. "Tu m'as manqué," "I missed you,"

9. J'ai toujours su que la nature m'avait douée d'un sens aigu de la perception; mais l'intimité semblait le décupler.

I had always known I was gifted with an unusual sense of perception, but intimacy only seemed to enhance it.

10. Pour moi l'important c'est le public; il faut les laisser avec une émotion.

For me it is all about the audience, about leaving them with a feeling.

11. Le chiot perdu était devenu un grand méchant loup.

The lost puppy had become a bad wolf.


	26. A Message In Flame

26. A Message In Flame

Katie

From the moment Cook first turned that picture round I knew I was fucked. I'd been blind. I'd been stupid. My useless little brain had figured that if I ignored the problem for long enough it would some how go away. Every pathetic excuse I had paraded to myself came dancing back across my consciousness like the life visions of a dying man. None of them were good enough. I had fallen in love with someone, and I had blatantly lied to her for months. It was that fucking simple. I was a shit and she was going to leave me, and I couldn't see a way out of that.

Fucking Emily. She couldn't have fallen in love with some nice indie art princess who nobody had ever heard of? She couldn't have become a wanker when she started shagging the rich and famous, and forgotten about her family ties? No, she had to be a fucking Fitch, didn't she? And Fitches stick together. Fucking family Fitch, the name that was going to break my heart so badly I might never recover from it. And yet they would all be there to pick up the pieces. Just like they were there after Anna. Just like they were there after Paris. Just like they would be there for me again, even after the way I had treated them in the last month, only turning up for work when I had to and sulkily refusing any discussion on the subject of Le Coeur Explosif. Rob had tried to win me round, whilst Jenna had just sighed in disappointment. Emily, lovely Emily had tried to encourage me to do the right thing, and James, well James would just love me whatever I did. My family. My salvation and my downfall.

The room was silent, and four sets of eyes fell upon me. The first thing I felt was pain, like an actually physical pain. Like a crater was forming in the centre of my chest and I was losing physical substance from the inside out. At first it was selfish pain, pain at the thought of losing Effy. Pain for the emptiness of living without her. But then, as it inevitably does with her my focus turned itself inside out and I found myself thinking about her pain. How could I have done this to her? She had been nothing but beautiful to me, and this was how I repayed her? How could I have lied to her when she was so vulnerable, and how the fuck was she going to react? Fuck my pain, I deserved it, but if anything happened to Effy because of me, I don't know how I would live with that. And if she never wanted to see me again, how would I be able to help her?

It was a car crash moment, time slowing down so I had what seemed like forever to contemplate the worst case scenarios before the final impact. The inevitable impact. There was no running away from it any more, and I raised my head to face my destiny. Thomas looked confused, Freddie looked like he wanted to kill me, and Cook just looked like he was still thinking about my sister and Naomi Diamond. And Effy? Effy was smirking.

She was staring at me just like everyone else, her steely blue eyes deconstructing me where I stood. I felt completely naked under her gaze, but where I had expected to find censure and contempt, all I saw was curiosity and amusement. I could almost see her mind working as she stared at me in silence, recalibrating her opinion of me as I watched helplessly on. Nobody in the room said a word, all of us were barely breathing. As ever, we were waiting for Effy's lead. Four lives waiting on the balance of one spectacular blue-eyed girl.

"I wasn't looking," she said calmly, taking a step towards me. "But somehow you found me."

She stalked towards me like a predator, looking cool, collected and totally in control. And, though I was ashamed to be thinking of it at a time like this, rather hot. Her eyes were blazing now, slicing me apart and leaving me vulnerable, but not with hate. Was that? Was it? Love?

"I tried to hide from your love light," said Effy as she continued her approach until she was standing right in front of me.

"But like heaven above me," she said, raising her hand to cup my cheek. "The spy who loved me. Is keeping all my secrets safe tonight."

And then she kissed me. Her other hand came up to curve around the back of my head, and her lips caught mine with infinite tenderness, as Cook cottoned on and filled the room with a rousing chorus of 'Nobody Does It Better'.

And what a kiss. It was so innocent and full of hope, just like our very first kiss, before Freddie or my family had ever come between us. When we were just two girls being drawn together by an unknown force. It was as if she was taking us back there. Offering us a chance to start again? My eyes were stinging with the start of tears by the time she pulled away and I remembered there were other people in the room.

"You wouldn't betray me, would you Katie?" said Effy.

It was more of a statement than a question, addressed to me but loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"No," I babbled. "I couldn't. I told them I wouldn't do it. I couldn't do that to you, Eff…"

"So you admit you were spying on us," said Freddie smugly.

"I was supposed to yes, but…" I confessed.

"And was fucking her part of the deal?" he spat angrily.

"No," I cried in shock. "I never… oh fuck no. I just, I just couldn't… She's just so beautiful."

I felt the soft touch of Effy's hand on my arm, and my incoherent babbling dried up.

"Do you love me, Katie?" she asked me softly.

"Oh God yes," I replied, emotion gushing out of me like a river breaking its banks.

"Then It doesn't matter," she smiled.

"What?" I said, unable to believe she was taking this so calmly.

"It doesn't matter how you got here," replied Effy. "Only that here is where you want to be."

"You're not angry with me?" I said incredulously.

"You went against your family's wishes because you fell in love with me," she smiled. "I think it's kind of romantic."

"So you're just going to forgive her?" said Freddie, watching his chance for revenge crumble in the face of Effy's generosity.

"Yes I am," she said, in a voice that would brook no argument, but Freddie tried anyway.

"But what if she runs back to Daddy?" he said.

"Then I'll just have to keep her prisoner," she smirked.

"But she lied to you," he insisted. "She lied to all of us."

"Oh Freddie," she smiled benevolently. "Don't you know I have a thing about bad girls?"

And with that she took my hand and walked us out of the room, casually swiping the offending newspaper out of Cook's back pocket as she went. I don't think I made a breath all the way back to our room, still convinced that Effy's calm exterior was nothing but a front. As soon as she shut the door behind us I went the other way, my breathing quickening to the point of hyperventilation. Again, it was Effy's serenity that cut through my fear.

"Don't panic," she said, pulling me closer and holding me shaking in her arms. "There's not going to be any drama."

"I'm so sorry," I told her, but she hushed me with another kiss.

At first I was hesitant, there was no way I deserved this beautiful creature's kiss. But this was Effy, yeah? I defy anyone to deny her for long. I began to let her in, and I felt her hands slip down and curve around my arse, pulling me closer to her until our bodies were touching all the way down. My mind might have been raging with guilt and fear, but my body had its own ideas. It was just like the first time again, such gorgeously intimate snogging shuddering its way through my senses. I felt a pressure against my body and realized she was pushing me back towards the bed. I didn't resist her, but I began to feel uneasy. And when she pushed me onto my back on the mattress and started to climb on top of me, the feeling grew. She moved her kisses to my neck and slid her thigh between my legs. I felt my pussy getting wet, but I wasn't happy going down this road.

"Effy no," I protested. "We shouldn't do this. We need to talk."

"You're right," she said, sitting up immediately.

I instantly missed her touch, but I was glad she was willing to stop. She got up off the bed and went over to her backpack. After rummaging for a minute, she turned back towards me with a grin so evil it made Voldemort look like a tree hugging pacifist. I didn't notice what she had in her hands until she had pushed me back down to the bed. She took one of my arms and started tying it to the headboard with one of the bits of blue polypropylene rope we used for stuff on site.

"What are you doing, Eff?" I asked her nervously.

"Keeping you prisoner," she grinned.

I didn't resist when she took my other arm and did the same thing. Okay, so it looked like a whole 'talking' thing was off the agenda. I wasn't too happy about it, but who was I to dictate what Effy needed? Maybe it was me who needed to talk to assuage my guilt. Maybe what Effy needed right now was to feel in control.

"You know if we're going to do this, shouldn't we be using silk scarves or fur lined handcuffs?" I said, feeling the pinch of the nylon rope against my skin.

"I ain't no princess, honey," replied Effy. "With me what you see is what you get."

It was delivered without malice, but she was certainly making a point. She finished her knot work, and sat back until she was straddling me, looking me up and down. It was a ridiculously sexy situation and I could feel a buzz begin to build inside my pussy, but I couldn't quite read the look in Effy's eyes. I let her watch me in silence. I wasn't going to push it. I had to work to Effy's agenda now.

"You lied to me," she said suddenly.

So we _were_ going to talk, but it was going to be on her terms. Fair enough, I owed her that.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Why?" she asked.

Again I was surprised by her tone. It was much more inquisitive than accusatory.

"Effy, I'm so sorry…" I began, but she put a finger up to my lips to quiet me.

"Not after an apology," she said. "I want an explanation."

"After Paris, I couldn't get a job in fashion," I said. "So I came back to work for my dad at Fitchtastic Fireworks. We had been doing the Mayfest gig years, and so when you guys got it instead he was really pissed off. No, it was more than that, he was worried, but he seemed to bounce between supreme arrogance and fear. He would never admit it, but when we saw your work at Mayfest, he knew you were a real threat to us."

Effy's eyes filled with a sudden sadness that it broke my heart to see.

"So that whole night at the Old Library?" she said. "That was just a

setup?"

"No," I insisted. "I didn't know who you were that night other than the beautiful girl I saw in Paris. That night was so beautiful, even after you told me about Freddie. I loved just being with you. You made me feel, I don't know you just made me feel right. Like all the ridiculous petty things of the world had no hold on me any more."

"I know," said Effy softly. "I think I could have run to the ends of the earth with you that night. Tell me it was real."

"It was real," I said. "It still is. I never wanted to get into this ridiculous spying nonsense. I only did it to shut my dad up."

"You're very good at it," said Effy. "You might want to consider a career change."

"I didn't mean it to drag on this long babes," I insisted. "It was a total shock when I first saw you at the barn. But it felt like what you said, that I was meant to find you. I just wanted to hang out with you, but having spun Freddie all of that Katie Ford bullshit, I thought you wouldn't want to be friends with me if you knew who I was."

"Friends," chuckled Effy. "It seems like such a ridiculous concept now."

"I tried," I said, with a gesture that would have been a shrug if I wasn't tied to the bed. "I thought I was big enough just to love you as you were. Turns out I was a little more greedy than that."

"Did you betray me, Katie?" asked Effy.

"No," I said forcefully. "I couldn't do it. I was in love with you. I fed my dad a load of nonsense he could have discovered for himself if he could be bothered to go online"

"Why didn't you just tell him about me?"

"Tell him what, Eff?" I said. "That he _should_ be fucking scared? That you are a genius? That you were better than him and I loved you for it? You don't know my parents, Effy. For the Fitches, family is everything, and I was choosing you over them. Not just you, but Le Coeur itself. I loved working with you and the boys. I wasn't happy working in the family business, but you reignited my love of pyro."

"I used to think you were so cool," said Effy, shaking her head. "The way you took to it, the way you handled the pyro, the way nothing ever fazed you. I thought you were some kind of pyro goddess, and that's why you were my soulmate."

"I'm still that girl, Eff," I said earnestly. "But it was my family that made me that way. I've been around pyro since I could walk. When we used to fire shows with portfires and nail boards."

Something dark flared in Effy's eyes as I awaited her verdict.

"That," she said. "Is fucking hot."

She made love to me then. Gently, exquisitely and at great length. I was totally hers. Not that I could do anything about it physically obviously, but I let my emotions go too. As her skilful tongue did unspeakably beautiful things to my flesh, the unspoken generosity of her love bathed my spirit in light. It was shattering to be with her like this, with all my lies behind me. It felt like she was destroying me and remaking me with her touch, and I cried and whimpered her name like an invocation to the gods. It was incredibly emotional, and when her sweet mouth eventually brought me to my climax, I was crying openly. Crying with relief that she wasn't going to give up on me. That even after all the bullshit I had to put her through, she still believed in me. That love really does conquer fucking all. She untied my hands and kissed away my tears. She pulled me to her and held me, stroking my hair until I fell asleep in her arms. There was no future I could imagine for myself that didn't have Effy in it. She had been right about the soulmates thing, and I would give anything in the world to be with her, even if it meant war with my family. She was perfect.

I woke up with a start the next morning and instantly knew I was in an empty bed. My hands reached out automatically to the cold side of the sheets, as if I could magic her into existence. When that didn't work I span round in the bed to try and find her, but the first thing I saw was the window. Just like in France, scrawled across it lipstick in Effy's familiar handwriting was a message that cooled my nervous fire.

"Je t'aime Katie Ford."

But then the Ford had been crossed out and replaced by Fitch.

I felt the tears begin to well up again at the use of my real name. Much has been made of Effy's effortless physical beauty, but every bit as much of her is her effortless spiritual beauty. Even when she struggles in her own life, she never stops being the one we all look to, the one who has the gift to bring us all to life. I felt the tension from months of living a double life fall away from me. For all that I complain about them, I'm still a Fitch through and through, and it was good to have my identity back. And finally to share it with the woman that I love.

"You know if you're going to get that anxious every time you wake up without me, we really need to talk again about you moving in," Effy's voice cut through my reverie.

I looked round again and there she was sitting cross-legged in an armchair. She was fully dressed, and it was clear she had been watching me.

"I'm glad you're awake," she said. "You looked way too cute to disturb, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Goodbye? What? Where are you going?" I burbled.

"To site," said Effy calmly. "Kinda have a show to rig."

"Fuck, is it that time already?" I said, glancing around for clothing. "Just give me a couple of minutes and I'll come with you."

"You're not coming," she said, abandoning the armchair and coming to sit beside me. "You're barred from site."

"But I thought you believed me," I said in dismay.

"I do," she said, reaching out to touch my face.

"Then why don't you trust me?" I complained.

"It's not me," she said, holding up her phone to show me what looked like a succession of ranty text messages from Freddie. "I had to give him that one, and besides, he's still furious. I don't think having the two of you on the same site would be a good idea."

"But what am I going to do?" I pouted.

"Go and see your family," said Effy, kissing me on the forehead. "Tell them I thought they were good, and that I wish them bonne chance"

"Do you think they can beat us?" I asked, before realising my unconscious choice of allegiance.

"No," grinned Effy cheekily. "But what would it matter if they did? Either way, someone you love would win."

She kissed me on the lips and headed for the door. Just before she left, she turned back to me.

"It's going to be fine, Katie," she promised me. "I'll find a way to make it all work out."

I fell back to sleep for a couple of hours, the exhaustion from these last few weeks of stress taking it's toll. I took a long shower, letting the powerful jets of the hot water wash away the remnants of my sins. I decided to take Effy up on her advice. I might not quite be up to facing Rob and Jenna yet, but there was one member of my family with whom I'd always feel at home.

My heart lifted when I first saw that familiar face, so similar and yet so different to my own. There is an instant comfort in connecting with my other half and it made me realise how much I missed her. Skype could only get us so far, and when she stood up to embrace me, I ran into her arms. I think we must have hugged for a full five minutes before either of us spoke, not caring about anyone else in the pub.

"Missed each other then?" came the sarcastic voice of Naomi Diamond, who had clearly grown bored of waiting for the end of the embrace.

Of course she was there, reminding me that Emily wasn't truly mine any more. But for the goofy grin that had been plastered across my sister's face for nigh on a year now, I could forgive her for it. Naomi was dressed down in a scruffy T-shirt and jeans, a beanie pulled down over her peroxide hair, and a ridiculous pair of fake glasses to try and disguise her famous blue eyes. It didn't really work, she still looked devastating, and clearly wasn't fooling the young boy who was shuffling nervously towards her.

"Excuse me, are you Naomi Diamond?' he asked her.

"No," she said flatly, and went back to playing with her phone.

"You really look like her," he said.

"Who is she?" she shrugged with a bored look that would have rivaled one of Effy's.

"You're kidding," said the boy in surprise. "She's like a well famous supermodel."

"Well that's not me," said Naomi. "My name is Karen. I work in a bank."

I watched Emily trying not to laugh at her girlfriend's attempt to conceal her identity. After all my angst about the lies I had told to protect myself, it amused me to see Naomi doing it so casually. It seemed we all played games with who we were one way or another.

"Karen honey, would you like a drink?" said Emily, playing along with the game.

"Sure," said Naomi, watching her arse as she walked away.

"So do you live around here then?" asked the persistent young man. "Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?"

"Nah mate," laughed Naomi. "Got a girlfriend. Totally loved up. She's my one and only."

"Oh," said the boy, his shoulders sagging in disappointment. "She's a lucky girl."

"Damn right," agreed Naomi. "She's got a girlfriend who looks like a supermodel."

I snorted with laughter at Naomi's affrontery. I was glad that Emily had found her. They were a good match.

"So what's the news, big sis?" said Emily, returning with our drinks.

"Effy knows who I am," I blurted.

"Oh so you finally grew a pair and told her?" said Ems.

"Not exactly," I admitted. "I was exposed. Freddie found a picture of you two in the paper and worked it out."

"Oh God, are you okay?" asked Emily in sudden concern. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said. "She didn't bat an eyelid. Said as long as I loved her she didn't really care."

"Seriously?" said Ems wide-eyed.

"No drama," added Naomi. "That's impressive."

"I have got to fucking meet this girl," said Emily. "She sounds fucking cool. What does she look like?"

I got out my phone and started looking for a picture.

"Well you would have seen her in Paris if your face hadn't been superglued to Naomi Diamond's mouth," I teased.

"Oh but what a mouth," countered Ems, flashing me a look of pure filth.

"She likes my mouth," smirked Naomi.

"I like all of you, baby," said Ems, eyefucking the blonde enthusiastically.

I had to stop them before this descended any further. Today was supposed to be about me.

"This is Effy," I said, holding up my phone towards them.

It was one of my favourite pictures of her. Her red firing suit was down and tied around her waist, and she was wearing a skimpy purple vest top. Her helmet was perched visor up on the back of her head. She had an attractive smudge of black powder on her left cheek and a bunch of five inch shells dangling in her hand. Everytime I looked at it, it gave me shivers of a delicious cocktail of love and lust.

"Fuck," said Emily, her eyes flaring in undisguised appreciation.

"Fuck me, she's gorgeous," said Naomi.

A guilty look flashed between them that quite clearly said 'if I wasn't with you then I totally would.'

"Nice work, Katie Fitch," said Naomi. "I used to think you were mad to turn down Anna, but I get it now."

She took the phone out of my hand for a closer look.

"So is this what you wear to do pyro?" she asked, looking at Ems. "You know if you ever fancied revisiting your roots, I would fully support you."

Emily arched her eyebrow at her lover.

"It's like that is it?" she smirked. "Katie, have you got your gear with you? I might have to borrow it later."

I was still trying to shake the image of those two playing pyro sex dress-up, when an unexpected voice cut into my consciousness.

"Emily, Naomi," said Jenna. "There you are."

"What the fuck are they doing here?" I hissed crossly at Emily.

"We were meeting them here for Sunday lunch," she said apologetically. "You didn't think the Fitch family dinner stops just cause we're in another town, do you?"

"Hey bitches," said James enthusiastically, plonking himself between Emily and Naomi, and indulging in a quick perv on the blonde, for which Emily smacked him around the head.

"Oh Katie," said my mother. "I didn't expect to see you here. Shouldn't you be off with that girl plotting against your family?"

"Mum," said Emily harshly.

"Don't Jenna love," warned Rob, but Mum completely ignored them.

"Well why are you here?" she said accusingly.

"I'm banned from their site," I said plainly. I had been lying for too long. "They found out I was a Fitch."

"Oh well good," said Jenna. "Then maybe we can put all this nonsense behind us, and you can come back home."

"I'm still in love with Effy, Mum," I said. "This thing's not going to go away."

"How can you be in love with someone who is trying to destroy us?" seethed Jenna.

"She's not trying to destroy anything," I argued. "She's just doing something that she loves. The only fucking issue here is that she is so fucking good at it. She deserves to be a star."

And then it hit me. The solution to the whole bloody mess.

"Times are tight, Katie," said my dad. "You need to be with us, not against us."

"But I can sort this," I said. "I can make sure Le Coeur Explosif are not competing for the same gigs as you."

"How?" asked Dad.

"I go and work for them full time," I said.

"And how exactly is going to help us?" scoffed Jenna. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"But it will," I insisted. "Effy shouldn't be doing blasters at family fun days and councill gigs. She should be doing rock gigs, fashion parties, art stuff. I know that world, and I'm pretty good at schmoozing it. If I can leapfrog them so that we are working in different markets, then the problem disappears."

"Why can't you get us a rock gigs and fashion parties?" asked James.

"Get real," said Emily.

"You seen her work, right?" I asked Dad. "You know what I'm saying is true."

"I suppose," said Rob grudgingly.

"Look," I said to Mum. "Come and watch her display with me tonight, then you'll see what I mean. JJ might be brilliant, but their styles are totally different."

"We'll see," said Jenna suspiciously, and an uneasy silence descended on the table.

"Well I don't know about anybody else," said Emily, cheerfully shattering the mood, "But I'm bloody starving."

Dinner went quite well after that. You can always rely on a clan of Fitches to get quite excitable about food that isn't created by our mother. Naomi zeroed in on Jenna, enchanting her with tales from the fashion world, and when I caught her winking at me, I knew it was a deliberate ploy. I was grateful to her for that, but it made me a little sad as I wondered if Jenna would ever accept Effy the way she had taken to Naomi. But the more food and drink we consumed, the more we all relaxed, and Jenna and I fell into an uneasy ceasefire for the sake of everyone else.

I spent the afternoon with Emily and Naomi back at their hotel room, watching stupid shit on YouTube whilst they quizzed me relentlessly about Effy.

"So when am I getting to meet this wonder girl?" insisted Emily, bouncing up and down like an excitable puppy, whilst Naomi looked coolly on with the special gleam in her eyes that only ever shone when she was gazing at Emily. Which to be fair was pretty much most of the time.

"Well tonight, I guess," I answered. "At the judging ceremony."

"That should be eventful," quipped Naomi.

"Yeah, how exactly were you planning on being there without revealing your secret identity?" asked Ems.

"You know I don't even really know," I admitted. "I was getting into some serious denial. I'm just glad it's all out in the open now, even if it does lead to some kind of fistfight."

"So if it came to it, who would you choose?" asked Emily.

"Jesus Em, you can't ask me that," I said in horror. "What would you do if it was Naomi?"

Emily looked across at her girlfriend and smiled a warm little crooked smile.

"I'd fight for her," she said.

And I had no doubt that she would.

"I don't want to fight," I sighed. 'I'm tired of it. I just want everything to be alright. Effy said she'd make everything alright."

"And you believe her?" asked Emily.

"Yeah," I replied. "She's clever."

Nevertheless, my sense of trepidation increased as we rejoined my parents and stood waiting on the harbourside for the evening's displays to begin. Effy was going on last so I had to sit through two displays that were of no consequence before the moment of truth. She always joked that I always got more nervous on her behalf than she ever did, and right now I was petrified. Had everything gone alright? Had they be able to rig in time without me? Was Freddie giving her a hard time? What was going on with the rest of the boys? But my ceaseless whirlwind of questions dried up as soon as a strange noise began to emit from the PA speakers. Finally the moment of truth.

At first it just sounded like an anouncement and the tuning of instruments, but then ever so subtly, some synthesiser sounds began to creep across the mix. I knew what was going on, but all around me, I could hear the beginnings of confused mutterings amongst the audience. There was music, but there were no fireworks. There were two small outbuildings on either side of Effy's pitch on the docks and about thirty seconds in on a bass note, a single flare kicked into life on either one of them. I could hear the chatter of the people around me, wondering if had something gone wrong. Then in the purple light of each flare a single figure appeared to climb over the edge of the roof. The audience were intrigued, were these guys coming to fix the problem? I knew it was Cook and Thomas, and as they began to move in a simple slow choreography, the excited chatter grew louder. Effy was using the techniques of immersive theatre in a firework display, nobody knew what was going to happen next, but she had dragged her audience into her scenario and all of them were riveted to her stage. Beautiful real strings started to play across the synths, and the audience cheered when an array of sparks appeared to erupt from the boys' heads. They continued their slow dance, leading with their heads so their flames moved with them, and I could feel the sense of anticipation rising. At the start of the next phrase, the boys flung their arms out wide and more sparks appeared to erupt from their fingers. It was a complete contrast to the gaudy overblown beginnings of the other shows but it was completely fascinating.

On the next beat the boys raised their arms above their heads and a single tower of white fire erupted skywards in the centre of the site. But instead of a single flash and burn, Effy kept pouring more pyro into it keeping the vertical energy reaching for the sky. During the rest of the intro, four more of these incredible towers appeared over the rest of the site, building up the energy. It looked like something from a sci-fi movie.

"That's insane," said my Dad.

"That is fucking gorgeous," said Emily.

A group of drunken lads behind us started whooping and cheering, as the build went on and on with the same purity of intention. Effy was making love to us slowly, teasing us into a heightened state before she unleashed herself. I had been sad to be kicked off the site, but to see it like this amongst the people had it's own rewards. It was a full two and a half minutes into the track before a techno beat kicked in, and the sky erupted into life above the towers, purples and golds layering in violent bursts and the crowd went fucking wild.

The towers finally died, but as the beat took over the ground crackled into life as Effy punctuated the aerial display with activity. The strings swelled into life again as a beautiful melody played over the beats, and the sky was filled with cascading sequences of colour from reds to golds to blues to silvers that grew in intensity as the strings pulled at our hearts.

"She can't keep this up," said JJ. "It's impossible, there's too much material, those towers alone…."

But his words died away as the big beats slipped into a breakdown, and the music slid seamlessly into a slow piece with piano and horns. Red blinker flares began to flash from the front of the dock, sending their shimmering reflections skidding out across the water. A plaintive woman's voice began to sing. It was a song by a Northumbrian folk band, and completely against the run of what you would expect for a pyro gig, slow, emotional and haunting. But Effy illuminated it with sculptural effects both ground based and aerial, bringing out the emotion in the music.

I went out with a famous bass player once. He turned out a bit of a plonker, but I was reminded of him then because of something he once said. He said the true art of bass playing was as much about what you left out as what you put in. That the silences were just as important as the notes. The other designers were trying to be guitarists, impressing us with their flash techniques, but Effy was a bassist holding us steady. She was the one who was going to make us dance. As the evocative strains of the music filled the air around us Effy, delighted our eyes with arches of comets, flashes of single shot chases, intriguing bursts of long hang aerial which drifted earthwards to the sounds of the french horn. I looked over to JJ, and could see the confused frown on his face as he struggled to understand it. He didn't know why it worked, but the rapt attention on all the other surrounding faces told us that it was working like a dream. Each burst of colour was connected by a corresponding darkness, as if she was showing us that not everything could be light all the time. Emily was right, it was fucking gorgeous. Effy was breaking all the rules, but she was getting away with it. If I really was writing that fucking thesis I could have dedicated a whole chapter to this one display.

But just as we were drifting into dreamland, a fast sequenced bass sneaked in under the track heralding the arrival of the next piece of music. The crowd cheered as the boys appeared on the buldings again, and they appeared to trigger sequences of pyro right next to them, erupting on powerful synth chords and voices chanting 'Outsider'. It was a rabble rousing build, and when a fierce loud, guitar and trumpet driven chorus kicked in, and the sky bust open with gold the crowd were right with them. It was an old track by an anarchist band and its simple celebratory joy was Effy's grandstand finale, but with a cheeky political edge as the chorus screamed 'There are millions think just like me.' It was the same fucking thing as the last time I had been in one of her crowds back at Mayfest. People stopped being passive spectators and started jumping around and screaming along. It was exhilarating, and I was beaming with fucking pride. There was no way she wouldn't win this now.

But as the track entered a vocal break down something unusual happened, something I wasn't expecting. The words repeated over and over 'I'm not alone. You're not alone', and there was a fizzing of fuses in the central part of the dock. It was a sound that I knew, a collection of detonators designed to ignite a fire sculpture, but as far as I knew we hadn't planned any fire sculptures. The music began to build again as the flames took hold, but it was still too early to say what the image would be. Another chorus hit, and the sky went mental again, the concussion from the blast waves rattling round the harbour. The audience were right there with her, but I was still too intrigued by the fire sculpture to pay much notice. The flames leapt up, obscuring the image and I waited impatiently for them to die down. It wasn't until the next breakdown that I started to make out a message in words. The chorus hit again and Effy's spectacular finale had the crowd in fits of delight, but I barely noticed it as I finally registered what was written there. The simple message eclipsing the reckless grandeur above it. It was in French, and I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. I needed backup. I tugged on Naomi's sleeve.

"Does that say what I think it says?" I asked her, dragging her attention down from the sky.

"Oh fuck," she said in astonishment, following my outstretched arm. "That is fucking hardcore."

"Well?" I demanded, the butterflies starting a revolution in my belly.

"Yeah," said Naomi, her eyes ablaze. "It says what you think it says."

The track collapsed into outro beats, and two massive eight inch shells burst over us, until all we were left with was a burning message written in flame.

**EPOUSE MOI**

**KATIE FITCH**

Even though the display was over the music continued, morphing into Jackie Wilson's Higher and Higher.

"What the fuck?" I said in the middle of the cheering crowd. That wasn't supposed to happen either.

"That," said Naomi Diamond. "Was one hell one a proposal."

Just as she said it, the song hit its chorus and I heard the crack of shells being launched. I looked skywards just in time to see five heart shaped shells bursting over the harbour.

"Proposal?" came Jenna's voice over the noise of the crowd, but I was in shock as more emotion than I could handle exploded in my body. I looked back down to find every member of my family plus an internationally famous supermodel staring at me wide-eyed.

"I have to go," I said, and turned on my heels and ran.

.

.

.

**Et voila. If anyone's interested the tracks for the show are as follows**

**Finished Symphony – Hybrid **

**Starless – The Unthanks**

**Outsider – Chumbawamba**

**(You're love keeps lifting me) Higher and Higher – Jackie Wilson**

**Love, peace and pleasure…**

**Hypes xx**


	27. Love Is A Battlefield

**So today we've being doing shows in a kids' hospital, and those children are the very essence of the words 'be brave'. To be able to put such smiles on the faces of those kids is a profound and humbling experience. So any mistakes in this can be justified by one of the longest but, also one of the best days of my life.**

**I don't own Skins, but I could tell it tales of love that crosses continents, and in a few days time, I will be doing just that…**

**Spread the love people, spread the motherfucking love…. **

**.**

**.**

27. Love Is A Battlefield

Effy

I was smiling away to myself as the post-show smell of cordite drifted around the site. God, I fucking love that smell. The show had been mint, everything firing off sweetly exactly as planned. Everything I had envisioned had become manifest, and it was good. But I could tell from the look on the face of Ted, one of the competition organisers, that he was not happy about it.

"That was a truly stunning show," he said, shaking his head. "But what was all that nonsense at the end.

"It wasn't nonsense to me, Ted," I smiled.

The competition was the last thing I was worried about right now. What mattered was what was going on inside the head of one Katherine Fitch. It wasn't until I had walked onto site that morning that I knew what I had to do. The revelation came to me as a gift, and it made everything simple. For once, I had been grateful for Cook's obsession with throwing everything onto the truck 'just in case'. It meant that I'd had the means to make the fire sculpture that could change the course of my life. He had been happy to help me when I told him of my plan, and Thomas, although surprised, had willingly mucked in too. Of course there remained one of the boys who hadn't been quite so thrilled.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he'd said, when he'd discovered us up to our elbows in paraffin.

"Making a fire sculpture," I replied, stating the obvious.

"We haven't got time for mucking about, Effy," he frowned at me.

"Oh I'm not mucking about," I said. "I'm deathly fucking serious."

"What's it say anyway?" he asked, inclining his head to try to read the letters.

"It's a message of hope," I smiled.

"Thomas?" said Freddie, shaking his head at me. "A little less cryptic translation please."

Thomas shot me a look, seeking my permission before revealing my plan. I nodded in assent. Soon half of Plymouth was going to know about it, and if I was going to go through with this there would be no turning back.

"It's a proposal of marriage," answered Thomas. "Effy is going to ask Katie to marry her."

Freddie went ballistic.

"No!" he exploded. "You are not going to put that monstrosity in our show. You are not going to fuck up our chances in this competition because of her. I forbid it."

I gave him a few seconds to breathe and then impaled him with an icy Stonem death glare.

"You forbid it?" I said quietly.

"Oh shit," said a worried looking Cook.

"And just how exactly are you planning on enforcing that?" I asked Freddie. "I'm not doing behaviour modification any more."

"Effy, if you defy me on this, if you put that sculpture in our show," he frowned. "I am walking off this site and I am not coming back."

"Fine," I said emotionlessly.

"Good," said Freddie. "I'm glad you've decided to see…"

I had calmly returned to my work on the sculpture.

"What the fuck, Effy," exclaimed Freddie. "I mean it."

I ran my fingers down the paper rope that spelled out the letter K, thinking about what I was about to do.

"So do I," I said.

"Are you just going to stand by and let her do this to us?" he said in exasperation to Cook and Thomas.

"You can't control matters of the heart," shrugged Thomas. "It is madness to try."

"As Effy goes, so goes my nation," answered Cook.

"You can't marry _her_," said Freddie. "It should have been me. It was supposed to be me. All I wanted was to make you happy."

"But you didn't, did you hun?" I said sadly. "And now I am happy, and you can't stand it."

"Fuck you, Effy," he cried, and turned around and stormed off site.

"He'll be back," said Cook optimistically.

I wasn't so sure.

So he was gone, but it hardly mattered. Il semblait qu'il y avait toujours un gars qui attendait son tour pour que je le déçoive.

"Why the long face, Ted?" I asked him.

"Effy, you're so incredibly talented," he sighed. "I don't understand why you would want to go and ruin it all."

"It was 'un crime passionel'," I shrugged. "In France it would be forgiven."

"Yes, well we're not in France now, young lady," fussed Ted. "And you broke the rules. You used the competition to further a personal agenda."

"Sometimes the rules are meant to be broken," I said.

I could tell Ted was getting cranky.

"You know we're going to have to mark you down for it," he said. "Possibly even disqualify you, these kind of things have consequences."

"I'm prepared to take responsibility for my actions," I said.

"Good, because you cannot use our competition to insult a member of another participating company."

I burst out into a full on joyous laugh, and when I looked back at Ted, he was clearly confused. Ah ces Anglais et leur incapacité délibérée à apprendre les langues étrangères.

"I didn't insult her, Ted," I smiled. "I asked her to marry me."

I watched as Ted's little face dropped from confusion to shock. Clearly there was nothing in his life that had prepared him for this eventuality.

"M…mm… marry you?" he stuttered.

But suddenly Ted became irrelevant as I heard her voice calling out to me as she ran across the site. My stomach lurched and I suddenly realised I was nervous as fuck, but luckily I didn't have much time for an inner debate. I nearly went flying as Katie launched herself at me, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist.

"Yes,' she said breathlessly before gifting me a gloriously reckless snog.

"Yes," she repeated, before kissing me again.

"Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes," each enthusiastic affirmation punctuated with an equally enthusiastic kiss. Finally she slid to the ground and held me tightly, muttering something that sounded like 'I fucking love you' into my chest. I looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Ted. I didn't need words. He understood perfectly. Ça valait parfois la peine d'enfreindre toutes les règles.

"I'll see you at the ceremony, Effy," he said. "And I'll try and put a word in."

"Oh hi Ted," said Katie, as if noticing him for the first time.

"I remember this one from when she were knee high to a grasshopper," Ted smiled at me. "And now here she is, all grown up and getting married. Thought this type of thing was more young Emily's style, but congratulations ladies."

"Yeah well, she's a very special lady," beamed Katie. "And now she's mine."

Ted left and Katie pulled me into yet another breathtaking kiss. When she pulled away I just stared at her goofily for while. I was stuck for both words and actions. She had said yes, and suddenly it was very real. Katie held my hands and looked at me like she couldn't quite believe it either.

"Did you mean it?" she said.

"I think that was a pretty grandiose gesture if I didn't mean it," I laughed.

"I know," replied Katie. "I just didn't think you were the marrying kind."

"Well I'm not really," I shrugged. "I've never even thought about it before, but it just seemed to make sense. It seems to me that all your problems stem from a conflict between me and your family. So I thought if I _became_ your family, I could make those problems go away."

Katie squeezed me tightly.

"Oh babes, that's such a lovely thought," she said, with a sudden serious look in her eye. "But you don't have to do this just for me, you know. God knows I don't deserve it after the way I've treated you. So, if you want to call it off, I'll understand. It's enough that you thought of me like that."

"I've been thinking about it all day," I replied. "And the more I thought about it, the more attractive it became. I want this, Katie. Not just for you, but for both of us. And I know we haven't been seeing each other that long, but from the moment you first kissed me I never really wanted anyone else."

"Well you sure as hell have got me now, Effy Stonem," she said with a glorious smile. "And you should have heard the crowd during your show. We have got this competition in the bag."

I decided not to trouble her with Ted's warnings, and kissed her instead, wallowing in the notion of being able to kiss her like this for the rest of my life.

"Things are looking good, Thommo boy," I heard Cook's voice from behind me. "I take it this touching scene means that we have a yes."

"We have a yes," said Katie exuberantly.

"Fucking mint," said Cook, coming over and planting sloppy kisses on both our lips.

"Congratulations," added Thomas. "I am so very happy for you."

"Thanks boys," said Katie, before a sudden frown crowded her brow and she began to look around her nervously.

"Where's….?" she said tentatively.

"He's gone," I replied.

"Gone where?"

"Just gone," I said. "He gave me an ultimatum, and that doesn't sit well with me. I called his bluff."

"I'm so sorry," said Katie. "I never meant to…."

"L'amour est un champ de bataille," I shrugged. "Il faut bien que quelqu'un perde."

"Et les vainqueurs doivent continuer la lutte." said Thomas.

"He'll be back," asserted Cook again. "He loves us too much."

I didn't share Cook's confidence. The fact that Freddie did indeed love me too much was what would stop him from coming back. Watching me with randoms was hard enough for him. Watching me give the very thing he wanted to someone else would be impossible. But it was too late now. Just one look at Katie's beautiful happy face was enough to confirm it. I was going to marry this girl.

The 'ceremony' such as it was, was held in a hotel overlooking the seafront. All the participating companies plus their entourages gathered to hear the verdict of the judges. There were a lot of competition people there, others from the industry who had come along to have a look, a smattering of bookers and promoters, and a whole bunch of people who I wasn't really sure who they were. Anyway the place was fucking buzzing by the time we made it out of our site clothes and got over there. If I'm honest, I couldn't have given a fuck about the results, just as long as I could keep looking at Katie with such unbridled joy written across her face. I had done that, and that made me prouder than anything.

When we walked into the room we were only seconds away from our first face to face confrontation with the Fitches, but I wasn't afraid. I knew that at the end of the day we both only wanted the same thing. We wanted Katie to be happy.

The first Fitch I encountered took on a comfortably familiar form, so similar to my own precious lover and yet another entity altogether. She looked me over with a practiced appreciation for the female form, and her eyes glinted with approval. Immediately afterwards, those same eyes flickered over to meet Katie's and I could see the flash of silent communication run between them. I could tell that the sisters meant a great deal to each other, and I wondered how strange it must have been for Katie to conceal so much of herself from me.

"You have _got_ to be Effy," smiled Emily. "Jesus Katie, your taste in men might not be all that, but your taste in women is phenomenal."

"Guess I learnt from the best," said Katie smoothly.

"And is this your crew?" smiled her sister, taking in the boys. "You look like a fucking rock band. No wonder you've got everyone freaking out."

"What's Naomi Diamond like in bed?" interjected Cook enthusiastically.

"Ferme ton claque-merde, ducon!" I scolded him, but Emily Fitch merely raised her eyebrows in the filthiest manner ever to cross a young girl's face.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she smirked at Cook triumphantly.

I had the feeling it was going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

"Where is your limpet anyway?" said Katie sarcastically.

"Charming all the old pyro guys," shrugged Emily. "They're beside themselves at the fact that they've got a 'real' celebrity here. I think they're trying to get her to announce the winners."

"Isn't that a conflict of interests?" said Katie.

"You should know," responded her twin, causing a rash of red to creep up Katie's neck.

I felt my fingers automatically intertwining with hers, and she accepted them with a squeeze.

"Good show, by the way," said Emily, diffusing the moment. "No, it was a great show. It was a fucking great show, and the ending…"

Emily laughed to herself.

"You should have seen Naomi's face when you left, Katie," she said. "Poor thing looked fucking terrified, you know what Jenna's like when she gets a sniff of a wedding. I think she was waiting for Naomi to pop the question there and then."

"Oh God, what did she say?" asked Katie anxiously. "She's not exactly Effy's biggest fan."

"I think she was a little shocked," replied Emily. "But then again we all were. So what's the verdict? Do I get to be a bridesmaid?"

"You do," said Katie, her nervousness evaporating, as she thought about her wedding.

"I'm choosing my own frock," insisted Emily.

"Yeah, good luck with that," said Katie. "You know Mum's gonna be all over it, if she can ever forgive Effy for being French and a better designer than Dad."

"You have my sympathies," grinned Emily. "What's your mum like, Effy? Are we going to have mother of the bride wars?"

I could barely smother my laughter as I thought of Anthea's reaction for the first time, and the fact that her only contribution was likely to be supplying the wine.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," I smiled.

"Hey, if Katie's getting bridesmaids does that mean you're going to need a best man?" Cook asked me, clearly vying for the job.

"I suppose so," I shrugged.

Katie slid her arms around me and pressed her forehead against mine.

"You really haven't thought this through, have you?" she said with amusement.

"I thought about you," I pouted. "Just not all this other stuff. I guess I thought it would just be you and me and a couple of mates."

"Dream on, girlie," laughed Emily.

It was then that I clocked them. Staring at me from the other side of the room. It could only have been them. The tall muscular handsome man and his equally strikingly powerful wife. The father's gaze was curious and searching, as if he was trying to work me out, but the mother's hovered somewhere between fascination and contempt. I'm not often strung out when people look at me, being mistress of the freakish gaze myself, but these two had me rattled. I had the unnerving sensation that I was going to be put through the mill tonight. Emily's scrutiny had been sharp enough and it would appear that she was on our side. I felt like a Montague in the house of Capulet, and I wasn't entirely sure there wouldn't be bloodshed by the end of the night.

Fortunately the moment was broken by loud music and the arrival of several competition organisers on the stage. They went through a bit of the usual bullshit about their sponsors, and how everyone had been a worthy competitor, and what a great two nights it had been, before getting to the bit that everyone was interested in.

"And now, it is my very great pleasure," beamed an older gentleman. "To invite a very special celebrity guest onstage to announce the results. Ladies and Gentlemen, the very lovely Miss Naomi Diamond."

The room went crazy as the stunning blonde model stepped up.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the saints in heaven above us," exhaled Cook. "She's fucking gorgeous."

"Mine," grinned Emily smugly next to him.

"You girls really are Fitchtastic aren't you?" he guffawed.

"We have a way with the ladies," said Emily casually.

"Ok, everyone, I have the envelope in my hands," announced Naomi from the stage, and everyone's attention shot forward. "In reverse order the winners are…"

She tore the envelope open and extracted a piece of paper.

"In third place…" she continued, pausing for what I thought was dramatic effect until I saw a confused frown cross her face. Whatever the result was, it was clear that she didn't agree with it. She shook her head and shrugged before going on.

"In third place, Le Coeur Explosif."

"What the fuck?" said Katie loudly as discontented murmurs rippled round most of the audience. "They were the fucking best and you fucking know it…!"

"Easy tiger," I said, placating her, before she started going one on one with the judges. "I knew they were going to mark us down. I broke the rules."

"Who gives a fuck about that?" demanded Katie. "It was beautiful. This is a fucking travesty."

When Katie gets going there's usually only one way to shut her up, so I used my tried and tested method, and kissed her.

"Um, I've got this prize thingy here," said Naomi, waving around a tacky plastic trophy. "Is someone going to come and collect it?"

"It's cool," I assured Katie, before turning away from her and heading through the crowd.

I felt the heat of their scrutiny all the way to the stage.

"You should have won, Effy," shouted someone as I climbed the steps, followed by a loud cheer.

"You go girl," yelled someone else, and as I walked across towards a grinning Naomi, I could see the worried looks on the faces of the organisers. Challenges to authority were not something that was welcome here. Well tough luck gentlemen. Welcome to the New World Order.

"Congratulations," said Naomi as she handed me my 'prize', but the cheeky look in her foxy blue eyes told me that she knew it was so much bullshit. She stepped aside and gestured towards the microphone.

Seriously? It is somewhat of an understatement to say that I am unaccustomed to public speaking. I would normally rather pull my own lungs out with a barbecue fork than utter a breath before an audience, but the idea of fucking with the terror that surrounded me onstage was far too much of a temptation. I stepped up to the mic and took a deep breath.

"It would appear that 'j'ai été villaine'" I said.

"We love you bad," yelled a guy from the crowd, causing another wave of cheers, and I could hear Cook's trademark howling rising above the lot of them.

"And some might say I've paid the price for it," I said, raising my trophy up high. "But in the end it doesn't matter. You've all seen what I can do. And, in the only really important result of the night, she said yes, so I've already won first prize. Je t'aime, Katie Fitch."

That was when I discovered the true meaning of 'and the crowd went wild'. It would seem that deep down, everyone's a romantic at heart. I glanced over at my lover as the tumult rained down around our ears. She looked radiant, and I felt grateful to have discovered true love despite all the odds. Il fut un temps où j'aurais juré que je ne partagerai jamais les certitudes des gens 'normaux' vis-à-vis de l'amour; mais maintenant tous mes doutes à ce sujet s'étaient volatilisés. Even if it did all fuck up sometime in the future, I would have known this moment, and that alone was worth it.

"Soppy get," hissed a certain blue-eyed blonde in my ear.

"Takes one to know one," I replied.

The bedlam didn't die down until I had left the stage and returned to my party. Again, I felt the pressure of the elder Fitches' gaze, but this time when I looked Emily was beside them, smiling and winking at me and a boy who must have been her brother was giving me an enthusiastic geeky double thumbs up.

"Well that was eventful," smirked Naomi on the mic. Now back to the business at hand. In second place we have…. Northern Lights."

There was a flutter of regular applause as the guy went up to collect his prize, and Cook grabbed me into a massive bearhug.

"Fucking proud of you, Eff," he told me. "Le Coeur Explosif don't kow tow to nobody."

"You are the best, Effy," added Thomas. "And everybody knows it."

My beautiful boys, loyal to the last, with them and Katie by my side I felt fucking invincible. But when I looked across at my girl she looked like she was close to hyperventilating.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"My Dad," she answered breathlessly. "He's still in with a chance of winning it."

"You should go to them," I told her.

"You should come with me," she said.

"No," I said softly. "This is your moment. I'll meet the parents later."

I watched her being absorbed into the collective Fitchhood just as the Northern Lights guy finished his speech. I smiled at the thought of what was to come for them, for I already knew the answer. I am an expert in the art of reading people, Katie's subterfuge being the exception, but I'm putting that down to being dazzled by her light. Other people give themselves away more easily, and I knew that Naomi Diamond had read all three winners on the paper by the time I reached the stage. And although she was attempting to hide it, there was an unmistakable glow of pride about her when I looked into her eyes. She was someone who had bought wholeheartedly into the Fitch family via her firecracker lover, and her share of the collective joy was unmistakable.

"And so the winner is…," she declared, this time most definitely pausing for dramatic effect. "FITCHTASTIC FIREWORKS!"

The boys behind me howled for joy, so comprehensively had they accepted Katie into our tribe. A win for the Fitches was a win for us by default. We could trade on the scandal and our edgy outsiderness, so this was the best result all round. I looked over at them leaping up and down, high fiving and hugging each other all over the place, and I felt touched. Compared with the ragged backgrounds of my little band of brothers, the Fitches were a phenomenon more than a family. And now I was going to join them. It was inspiring, and more than a little terrifying.

The win seemed popular enough, and we all watched as Rob Fitch climbed the stairs to accept his accolade.

"First of all, I'd like to thank my wife, my family and my crew," he said. "Without whom, none of this would have been possible. I'd also like to thank the sponsors and the competition organisers for giving us this opportunity to compete. And to all the other companies for taking part and for making the whole competition into such a colourful spectacle."

You had to hand it to him, Rob Fitch was a diplomat.

"It's an honour to have been chosen as the winners of this competition, but I think we know that _this_…" he said shaking his winner's trophy towards us. "Doesn't really belong to me."

A stunned silence fell across the room.

"It belongs to someone else," he continued. "And the only reason she's not standing on this stage right now, is because she's a grand romantic, just like me. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my future daughter-in-law, Effy Stonem."

I froze as the room erupted around me. De tous les dénouements que j'avais imaginés pour cette soirée, celui-ci était le plus surprenant.

"Go on," said Cook, shoving me towards the stage.

"The fuck?" I said, resisting his efforts. "I'm not going up there twice."

"The man is offering you an olive branch, Effy," said Thomas. "It would be foolishness not to take it."

Another shove from Cook propelled me with enough inertia to reach the steps. I sought out Katie's eyes as I climbed, and the fire in them was enough for me to conquer my fears, and launch myself towards the big man who was waiting for me. Rob was all smiles as he wrapped me in his arms. It wasn't until I was well within his crushing embrace that he whispered in my ear.

"If you hurt her, I'll hunt you down like a dog," he said.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I replied. "I love her."

"Then welcome to the family," said Rob.

I knew that my chances of being hunted down like a dog were very slim, as there were several people in the past who had hurt Katie, yet they were still walking round living and breathing and perfectly unharmed. But I knew it was the big man's way of expressing his concern and love for his daughter, and to have reached that part of the ritual meant that he had already accepted me. I could feel the organisers having nervous breakdowns all around us as Rob handed me the trophy, and once again the blast wave of approval from the crowd almost blew us away in its ferocity. Next thing I knew I was being pulled into another balloon crushing hug with every ounce as much warmth and vitality as one of Cook's. dozens of flash guns began to go off, and I stood there helplessly as events began to overwhelm me.

An hour later we were still at the hotel, but I had escaped out into the cold night air for a cigarette and some sanity. I was exhausted. For the last sixty minutes I had been caught up in a Fitchstorm. I had been adored by Katie, teased by her sister, manhandled by her father, inspected by her mother and perved on by her brother. Fuck me they were intense. I suspected it was easier to get into the marines than undergo the scrutiny I had just been subjected to. Sure it was all done in the name of love, but it was like being attacked by half a dozen slobbery and overenthusiastic Doberman puppies. If I had known what I was getting myself into, would I still have lit the fuse on that sculpture?

I tried to light up the cigarette of salvation, but my lighter wouldn't spark.

"Putain de merde," I spat.

Looking for a light meant going back in there, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that. Moments later however, a new salvation arrived in the form of a blonde supermodel. She held out the light and I took it from her, sparking up my cigarette with a long grateful drag.

"Are you okay?" She asked me kindly.

"There's just so many of them," I sighed. "And they're all fucking mental."

"Yeah," smiled Naomi. But you kinda grow to love them."

"Yeah? I said hesitantly.

"Yeah," she assured me. "It's a bit overwhelming at first, but you get used to it. I'll steer you round the curves."

We stood and smoked silently for several minutes of blissful calm. I decided I liked Ms Diamond. She had an admirably detached air about her, but she burned with a passion that was equal to mine. If I was to survive the Fitches I was going to need a friend, and here was one who had already braved the storm.

"Nice work by the way," said Naomi eventually. "Katie's hot."

"And I will never, ever tell Emily that you said that," I smirked at her.

"Hhmm, yeah," she said. "Probably for the best if we don't mention that.

She bit at her bottom lip in a completely adorable fashion

'So," she smiled at me. "Ready for round two?"

I pushed myself up off the wall I had been leaning on. L'amour est un champ de bataille.

"Il nous faut de l'audace, encore de l'audace, toujours de l'audace," I said. "Pour la France, et pour l'amour…"

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(And I totally didn't have to download the Pat Benetar track at Shipley station once I'd come up with this chapter…. Nope, that wasn't me…)

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French interpretations

1. Il semblait qu'il y avait toujours un gars qui attendait son tour pour que je le déçoive.

It seemed like there was always some guy hanging round taking his turn to be disappointed in me.

2. 'un crime passionel' – a crime of passion

3. Ah ces Anglais et leur incapacité délibérée à apprendre les langues étrangères.

Oh the English and their wilful inability to learn another language.

4. Ça valait parfois la peine d'enfreindre toutes les règles.

Sometimes breaking all the rules was worth it.

5. "L'amour est un champ de bataille," I shrugged. "Il faut bien que quelqu'un perde."

"Love is a battlefield," I shrugged. "Someone has to lose."

6. "Et les vainqueurs doivent continuer la lutte." said Thomas.

"And the victorious must carry on the fight,"

7. "Ferme ton claque-merde, ducon!" – Shut the fuck up, dumbass…

8. 'j'ai été villaine' – I've been a bad girl..

9. Je t'aime, Katie Fitch." I love you, Katie Fitch

10. Il fut un temps où j'aurais juré que je ne partagerai jamais les certitudes des gens 'normaux' vis-à-vis de l'amour; mais maintenant tous mes doutes à ce sujet s'étaient volatilisés.

I once believed that I would never experience the things that other people knew about love, but now that doubt was gone forever.

11. De tous les dénouements que j'avais imaginés pour cette soirée, celui-ci était le plus surprenant.

Of all the outcomes I had envisioned for this evening, this was the most unexpected.

12. L'amour est un champ de bataille – love is a battlefield

13. "Il nous faut de l'audace, encore de l'audace, toujours de l'audace," I said.

So I wanted a famous French battle cry along the lines of 'once more unto the breach, dear friends,' and I found this one from the French Revolution on the internet, but I asked Froggie to recommend any more. And whilst she supplied me with a cornucopia of options (in the interests of helping me understand French culture) I decided to stick with my original for one reason – the standard translation is 'we must dare, dare again, always dare' but I prefer to interpret it like this, in reference to the ever wonderful Emily Fitch 'we must be brave, and brave again, we must always be brave.'

14. "Pour la France, et pour l'amour…" – for France, and for love….

**A bientôt mes pétards, time to fly….**

**Hypes xx**


	28. A Cunning Plan

28. A Cunning Plan

Katie

Effy was lying face down on her belly flat out asleep. To be fair I had shagged her to within an inch of her life when we had finally gotten back to the hotel last night. I lay beside her propped up on one elbow watching her sleep, whilst re-running the events of last night on a loop in my head. I still couldn't quite believe it. The event that I had been dreading for weeks had come and gone, and her reaction had been so far beyond my wildest dreams I had to constantly remind myself that it wasn't in fact a dream. The love of my life had asked me to marry her. _Effy_ had asked me to marry her. Ever since I had met her, she had been constantly surprising me, and it looked like that wasn't about to stop any time soon. The massive curveball she had hefted in all of our directions had effectively sideswiped any animosity from my family. Emily had found the whole thing hilarious, my dad appeared to have fallen in love with her and somewhat predictably, my pervy brother just wanted to shag her. Even my mother and her unfiltered xenophobia had been swayed by Effy's charms, and the fact that she wanted to make an honest woman of me, the thrill of a potential wedding outmatching her ingrained prejudices. I too had been stunned when I had seen that message in flames, but my every instinct had screamed at me to run straight into her arms and say yes.

You would have thought that having been so badly burned in the past I would have been more cautious, especially because of the short time we had known each other. And the fact that up until now our relationship had been based on a massive lie. It would have been logical to have given ourselves some breathing space, to make sure that our feelings were still the same now that everything was out in the open. But fuck logic, my heart was yelling at me far, far louder than my brain, and my heart belonged to Effy. I reached out and and ran my hand gently up and down her back, mesmerised by the soft texture of her delicate pale skin. Asleep, with her hair splayed out across the pillow, and her arm hung dead weight over the side of the bed, she looked innocent and fragile. It was hard to believe that she had once been such a voracious sexual predator, or that this slender body could spring into life and lug heavy pots in and out of the truck with aplomb. I continued to stare at her helplessly, as the physical manifestations of all the heavy emotions that were overtaking me played themselves out across my body. My nerve endings were tingling with such anticipation it felt like I was shooting sparks of electricity out into the atmosphere from my skin, and my muscles shook and spasmed as they struggled to contain the forces that ran through them. My stomach was swirling so violently I could have sworn I was at sea, and even though I had been awake in plenty of time, the idea of going for breakfast had seemed completely beyond me. Even without the fact that I could neither bear to wake Effy up nor even begin to entertain the idea of letting her wake up without me.

So I continued to gaze at her from the cocoon of my half-witted devotion as the minutes ticked by until the inevitable knock came on our door. I reluctantly dragged myself from the bed, and struggled into a half-hearted attempt at clothing, before opening the door to a slyly beaming Cook.

"Hey ho my luscious little lovebird," he said. "You guys ready to go and de-rig?"

"Not exactly," I said, pushing the door a little further open so he could see Effy's prone unconscious figure on the bed.

"Katiekins, you dog," he grinned at me. "What did you do to the poor girl?"

"I may have been showing her my appreciation," I shrugged.

"All fucking night by the looks of it," he smirked.

"I love her," I declared, as if the effort of holding it in had finally become too much for me, and I had to express myself to anyone who would listen.

"I know you do sweetheart," said Cook, pulling me into one of his big animal hugs.

"I couldn't bear to wake her up," I said.

"Tell you what, me and Thommo will go and make a start, and you girls can come and join us when you're ready," he offered.

"I should come with you," I said. "I already missed out on the rigging."

"Are you really going to let her wake up on her own the night after she proposes to you?" he asked. "I don't fucking think so, I won't let you."

"But…" I said helplessly.

"It's cool," replied Cook releasing me from the embrace. "Let's call it an engagement present."

I let him go without an argument. What else could I do? I could no sooner have cut off my own arm than left her alone right then. I slipped back into bed beside her and wrapped my arm around her waist, laying my head down beneath her shoulder blades and listening to her heartbeat through her back. I must have dozed off again in the comfort of being wrapped around her, for the next thing that I knew was the feeling of her fingers intertwined with mine, and the sound of her voice telling me she loved me. Once more, I felt a physical explosion inside of me. It was unspeakable, a thing that I could not describe in words. It was passion, but so much more than mere lust. Feeling so close and so connected to her was everything I needed from this moment, and if I had to choose one moment from my life to live over and over again, it would be this one. Beyond sex, beyond work, beyond friendship, beyond all things in the normal realms of human life, what I felt and shared with Effy was supernatural, a thing of unfathomable loveliness crafted in the realms of the gods.

"So, do you still want to marry me?" murmured Effy.

"Oh fuck yeah," I replied.

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Several days later it was all change back at the barn. Freddie was gone. He had taken some things before we'd got back, and he'd sent his Dad round to get the rest. Part of me still felt guilty at destroying his life so comprehensively, but I never held onto it for very long. It was easily overshadowed by the great swirlings of joy that would suddenly leap out at me at any time of the day or night. I could finally accede to Effy's wish for me to live with her, and Cook and Thommo had been helping me shift stuff from my flat. I put the kettle on as they brought the last of the boxes in, and wandered upstairs to see if I could find Eff. She was staring at her computer screen without making any effort to interact with it. Instead she reached across her desk for her pack of cigarettes and lit one from the butt of the one that had been dangling from her mouth. She must have heard me sighing, because she span around in her executive chair and looked me up and down.

"Disapproving of me already, Katie?" she asked.

"No, I answered quickly. I had to accept that smoking would always be a part of who Effy was, but it did worry me when she literally went at it full pelt. I always wondered if it signified the start of another attack.

"Are you, ok?" I asked her. "Have you taken your pills?"

"I'm fine," she said, reaching out her hand so I was compelled to go and sit on her lap. "The pills are working. I feel much better now."

She span us back round and indicated the screen of her computer.

"It's just all of this," she said, waving her hand over a screen full of emails. "I just don't know how I'm going to manage it all without Freddie. I'm not exactly cut out for admin, none of us are. Seriously, can you imagine me trying to talk to clients on the phone? I'm not exactly chatty at the best of times."

"Well I've been meaning to talk to you about that," I said kissing her gorgeous forehead. "I have plans for us."

"I see," grinned Effy, grateful for the distraction. "And do any of these plans involve you and me naked with a meringue based pudding any time soon?"

"They might do," I smirked. "But those are private plans, I'm talking about business plans."

"Enlighten me," said Effy.

"I want to come and work for you," I said. "I'll do all of the admin, the PR and all of that bollocks. I'm really good at it."

"But what about Fitchtastic?" she frowned. "I don't want to become your family's enemy all over again."

"I've already spoken to them about it," I said. "The problem has been with us competing for the same markets. If I can move us up a notch, target more high-profile gigs then I'll be doing us all a favour."

"I'd love you to come and work with us," said Effy, giving me a little squeeze. "And God knows I need you. But as for the other stuff, doesn't that take money? I'm not sure we can afford to pour a lot of cash into promotion right now. Sure it's been a better year than I expected already, but we have loans to pay off, overheads to take care of and we're not exactly swimming in it."

"Which is why I think we need a backer," I explained.

"Really?" said Effy sceptically. "I'm not sure about getting into any more debt."

"It's not debt, it's investment," I said. "From someone who believes in the company's future, and if I play this right they'll get a return on their money within no time. Trust me Effy, I've got the skills and the contacts. I can make this happen."

"Ok," she said hesitantly. "Did you have anyone in mind?"

"Well, I thought that your mum might…"

"No," said Effy forcefully.

"But,"

"No," she insisted. "Absolutely not. I came over here to prove myself on my own. I can't do that if I keep running back to mummy. I'm sorry, Katie, but it's important to me. You'll have to find someone else."

"So you're not against the idea altogether?" I asked her.

"Not entirely," she admitted. "But I'd have to really trust whoever it was, this is more than just a business for me. It's my dream."

"I know baby, I know," I said, holding her close. "I promise I'll look after you."

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.

When the idea had finally struck it had been so very fucking perfect, I wondered why I hadn't thought of it sooner. The entire plan was a marketing fucking dream. I called an old friend from Paris to make sure it was a goer, before rocking up one rainy afternoon at Emily and Naomi's swanky Camden flat.

"Jesus Katie, come in," said Naomi, when she saw my somewhat bedraggled state.

"Yeah, it is a little damp out there," I shrugged.

There was a time when I would have been appalled if something as trivial as the elements had fucked with my perfectly prepared appearance, but I was becoming increasingly reacquainted with muddy fields, and a girl who loved me regardless of what I looked like.

"Do you want a cup of tea," offered Naomi, taking my wet coat. "I'm afraid Emily's not here, she's.."

"In Budapest, I know," I said. "I didn't come to see Emily, I came to see you."

"Oh God," she groaned. "Is it some kind of Fitch family conspiracy? What am I getting myself into now?"

"God paranoid much," I laughed at her. "Relax, I have a proposition for you."

Naomi's eyes widened and she looked far from relaxed.

"Christ Campbell, it's a business proposition you idiot," I scoffed. "Your body ain't that special."

"Thousands of paying customers would beg to differ," she smirked.

"Whatever bitch," I scowled.

"Have to say, your business pitching style is admirable," she said sarcastically. "I'm convinced already."

"Look, I'm not going to bullshit you of all people," I said. "Le Coeur Explosif needs an investor to help us reach the next level, and I think you're it"

Naomi smiled to herself as if remembering something.

"Effy's a great girl," she said. "And seriously talented. I like her a lot, but if this is business as you say, what's in it for me?"

"Money," I replied. "And lots of it."

"How so?" she asked me. "Fireworks can't be that lucrative."

"Do you have a perfume?" I asked her.

"I've got lots of perfumes," she frowned at me.

"No," I grinned. "Do _you_ have a perfume?"

"Oh," she said suddenly twigging what I meant. "No."

"Picture this," I said, sweeping my hand across the room for emphasis. "'Detonate' by Diamond. Emily makes the advert, which has you looking fucking drop dead gorgeous in the middle of a bunch of Effy's pyros. It's dangerous, it's edgy, it's a sure fire fucking winner. I have a friend in a Paris perfumerie who's itching to create a scent for you. If we move on it now, we'll be able to launch it for Christmas. Your profile's still on the rise right now. You'll make a fucking fortune."

"And I'm guessing your cut goes back into helping Effy," said Naomi. "You know, that brain of yours is wasted in pyrotechnics. You should come back to fashion, or at the very least come and handle my PR."

"It's where I want to be," I said.

And for the first time since I had lost my job in Paris, I meant it.

"Give your man a call," said Naomi. "I'll run it by Ems, but if she's up for it, I'm in."


	29. An Explosion Of Potential

**So one minute you ask a girl to do a bit of French translation for you, and the next you end up on the other side of the world in her arms, the benefits of which include (amongst **_**many**_** others) that you can get her to do the Frenching live whilst you type, both improving your own language skills and being damn sexy. Once again thanks to blueeyedfrog02 for her interpretations (and her general all round awesomeness).**

**Dedicated of course to SJ and her continued recovery xx**

**I don't own Skins, but it did bring me the gift of love.**

29. An Explosion Of Potential

Effy

Katie had not been lying when she said she had wanted to help us. Only last week she had scored us a private New Year's Eve gig in Kensington Palace. Ok, so it wasn't the main fireworks over the Thames (dream on, Effy), but it was seriously fucking prestigious. They were even shutting part of Kensington Gardens as our fall out zone. Emily had come down to our November 5th gig in Brighton and shot some footage, and was putting together a promo for us. And of course there had been the shoot for Naomi's advert. I had been quite incredulous when Katie had come back with that little piece of news, but as she began to explain the mechanics of it, I found myself falling even more deeply in love with the woman who had decided to become my personal saviour. So there might not actually be a PhD in the offing after all, but there is no doubt that she is one clever fucking lady.

The shoot itself had proved to be a laugh, and had provided me with some interesting technical challenges, and Cook certainly had himself a fine time with some of the extras. But what was even more fascinating was the chance to watch Emily and Naomi at work. The pair of them had intrigued me right from the start, all the way back in Paris. I had caught them tumbling out of a hotel room like a pair of adulterous lovers, the first day of my rigging on the show. C'était comme si elles revenaient d'une nuit si superbe, qu'elles ne pouvaient pas contempler une séparation, même pour le bien de leur travail. They dawdled down the corridor trying to break away, but inevitably pulling each other back together for yet more giggling kisses. And the heat. Like someone had set off a flame thrower down the hall. And yet even in the midst of this flaming passion, they had such a gravity about them that I knew almost instantly that there would be so much more to this than just a simple lust. It was borne out the next day when I watched Naomi instinctively step in front of her lover to protect her from her sister's wrath.

Katie had since told me that she was desperately suspicious of Naomi at first, having suffered so calamitously herself at the hands of Anna, but that it soon became clear that no force on this earth was going to keep the couple apart. I could have told her that in those very first of days. I had long since reconciled myself to the fact that I was not cut out for that kind of love, and that the convenience of my arrangement with Freddie was the best I was going to get. I understood that I had only two options, the thrill of my former promiscuity or the security of my muted relationship. I wasn't aware I was allowed to have both. Though I had come to terms with what I thought was my destiny, I had to admit to a shiver of jealously when I saw the future that seemed to shine out in front of Emily and Naomi, where love became an inspiration instead of a straightjacket, and passion still ruled stronger than stifling domesticity. Je n'avais pas le moindre soupçon que six mois plus tard ce même elixir me serait offert sur un plateau. I didn't know that that was just what fucking happened when you bagged yourself a Fitch.

They still had it. That sheer fucking joy in each other's simple presence. Even though they were both working, and focussed on their jobs, you couldn't help but notice the way they both lit up when the other one came near. Or the blatant eyefucking from across the set whenever they had a spare moment to share. Or the affectionate little touches which they used instead of speaking sometimes. Or Emily's tolerant smirking over the starstruck murmurings of the extras every time Naomi walked by. Or Naomi's proud adoration every time she watched Emily take control. They exhibited a cheerful ownership of each other without any of the screaming insecurities which seemed to batter other couples, even without the pressures of fame.

But Emily had a confidence and a belief in what she was doing which would not allow her to deem herself overshadowed by the fact that her girlfriend was an object of adoration for thousands. And Naomi, despite being constantly told she was beautiful by everyone and his dog, seemed genuinely to be at her happiest when she was dressed down in comfortable clothes and mucking about with her mates. Even on the days Emily was shooting with the extras or the pyro, Naomi would come down to the set just so that they could have lunch together, even if it was just a grabbed sandwich and a cup of tea. Because far more importantly than all the sex and money and glamour in the world, it became clear as they held hands every night whilst they waited for the car to take them home, they really just fucking liked each other.

Watching them work was an absolute joy. Emily knew exactly what she was doing, and bossed her team in a polite and yet professional manner, and nobody could do enough for her. She took genuine pleasure in her work, and when they had nailed a particularly good shot, she made sure everyone was included in that joy. And there was a reason Naomi had done so well since she had gotten her lucky break via the fists of Katie Fitch. Whatever that special ingredient was that made a performer irresistible, she had it in fucking spades. I watched her turn it on again and again and again. One minute we would be sharing a fag leaning up against the wall during the painfully time consuming business of setting up a shot, and then the next minute Emily would call her and she would turn in an instant from the girl you would hang out in the pub with into Naomi Diamond, international superstar. It got me every time. It was breathtaking. _She_ was breathtaking, and even though we would privately have a laugh at the bombastic nature of the concept, both of us knew that this ad was going to be a sensation.

Because for all their genius and their talent, there was only ever going to be one boss on this site and that was my glorious, glamourous Katie Fitch. Much as I admired the golden couple's skills and professionalism, dès que j'appercevais Katie, à l'aise dans son milieu, une vague de désir me coupait le souffle. She would stalk about the set, iPad in hand, making sure that every little detail fell into place. Catering, transport, extras, crew, hospitality for representatives from the perfume house, Katie ruled the lot of them from her little electronic kingdom planner. And much as though everyone warmed to Emily's relaxed style, they knew that if they fucked up, a far more fearsome fate awaited them. To be honest, I did kind of miss her down at the business end of what we do, getting down and dirty with the rigging, but the rewards of seeing her doing what she does best were more than adequate. It still amazes me sometimes, that she seems so happy to focus all of her talents on our little band of misfits, when Naomi openly admits to having tried to headhunt her, but I'm fucking grateful that she does.

I was so mesmerised by watching her speak at the breakfast meeting on the final day of the shoot that I forgot to pay attention to what she was saying.

"So is everyone clear?" she said with finality, and I vaguely registered all the other departments answer in the affimative.

There was a pause, and it wasn't until I got a nudge in the ribs from Cook that I realised everyone was waiting for me.

"Pyro team, are you clear?" said Katie, a hint of a smirk in her eye.

"Um yeah," I stuttered, even though the only thing I was really clear on was how fucking hot she looked in that business skirt.

"Great," said Katie conclusively. "Then get set to 'detonate'!"

Everybody laughed, and started to gather up their things. It was our final day, the day of the money shot. All the preamble shots and cutaways had been done, leaving us with the big finale. Emily had refused to entertain the idea of green screen or CGI, she said (and rightly so) that we couldn't afford to look fake, and that rumours of Naomi getting up close and personal with the pyro for real would do wonders for the kudos of the product.

All of which meant that we had an impressive final shot, which had to be perfectly timed, with an incredibly valuable model slap bang in the middle of a load of material. It was a one take only deal. We didn't really have the budget to set it all up again, so everyone in the place had to be spot on, or we were fucked. I don't know what Katie's final words of wisdom had been, but I hoped that Cook or Thomas had been paying attention.

"Oh Effy," said Katie nonchalantly. "Could you pop into the production office for a minute before you go. I just want to go through those final firing sequences with you again."

I followed her into the portacabin that served as the office, whereupon she sent out her assistant to get her a coffee. As soon as the boy had shut the door behind him, I found myself thrown against it by a dominant Katie.

"Oh you are so busted," she grinned, pressing her body up against mine, and pinning my hands either side of my head. "It's a good job I find it cute."

"Good to know," I said breathlessly.

"You don't have a fucking clue what I said at the end of that meeting, do you?" she laughed.

"I may have had a momentary lapse in concentration," I admitted. "But this isn't helping."

"Then let me clear up the issue some more," she said, and kissed me fiercely.

"Oh God," I said helplessly, once she had re-gifted me control over my own mouth.

"Yes, you're right," smiled Katie smugly. "On this site I am God, so next time pay attention, or there will be consequences."

"Spanking type consequences?" I said hopefully.

"If you're lucky," said Katie, squeezing my arse.

"I love you," I said, and kissed her until I felt the bump of the door as the assistant tried to return with the coffee.

Katie stepped away.

"I'll see to you later," she whispered, just before she resumed her professional persona.

Of course I killed it. Malgré les charmes distrayants de Katie Fitch, je demeure toujours Effy – Reine des feux d'artifice. And in such stellar company, how could I fail to shine? We were such a good fit, the four of us, each one focussed and strong, and pushing ourselves to make something wonderful happen. Just before it all kicked off, when I was in the firing zone, I felt a surge of excitement over the new directions that Katie was capable of taking us in, and the thought that with her by my side I could accept new challenges I wouldn't have been able to face on my own. And as the last stars fell through the air at the end of the take, and a massive cheer began to ran through all the cast and crew on site, there came the strangest sensation of all. I looked back over the smoke-filled remnants of my work, and as the beams of the lights cut lines through the clouds, I remember one overwhelming feeling. Anthea serait fière de moi.

It was several weeks later when we finally got to see the fruits of our labours. Katie and I had gone up to London to meet with the others in a small post-production studio where Emily had been doing the editing. Katie went on ahead inside to join her sister, whilst I joined a skulking Naomi outside for a fag.

"What's it like?" I asked her.

"Dunno," she shrugged. "She hasn't let me see it yet."

No prizes for guessing who ruled the roost in that household then. The blonde was fidgeting restlessly as she smoked, chewing on her lower lip between drags.

"Are you nervous?" I said.

"No," she answered all too quickly, though the truth was clearly the opposite. I subjected her to the all-seeing eyes.

"Yeah well, maybe," she relented.

"How so?" I said. "You must be used to being in the public eye."

"Yeah, well," I'm always dressed up in someone else's clothes," she replied. "I'm a shadow, a hook to hang someone else's concept on. I'm never me, not the real me anyway. What if people think I'm a tit?"

"I'm sure your girlfriend isn't going to make you look like a tit," I reassured her, watching the iridescent glow that seemed to surround her at the mere mention of Emily. "In fact, if this commercial is you represented through her eyes, then you're going to look like the most amazing woman on earth."

"But it's different, isn't it? You know, doing something for yourself," she said quietly. "I'm not brave like you and Emily. I don't have something that's mine, something I want to show the world. Something I can be passionate about. At the end of the day I'm just a fucking clothes horse."

"You have her," I suggested.

"And I wake up every day praising the fucking stars for that," she smiled. "I know it's just a silly perfume, not art like what you do, but I do want it to be good."

"They say the trick to making great art is to surround yourself with the best people."

"Like those lovely boys of yours?"

"A great team can make all the difference," I said. "They can make you feel less lonely."

"You do," she said, squeezing my arm. "You make loving her less scary."

"And if all else fails we've got Katie to beat the world into submission," I laughed. "Come on, let's go watch this thing and then we can go and get monumentally fucked up someplace."

"That sounds like a fucking plan," she grinned back at me.

It seemed like Naomi was intent on making an early start on the plan, for as soon as we were inside she handed me a can of San Miguel out of a Tesco's bag. It would seem you could take the girl out of Hackney, but you can't take Hackney out of the girl.

"How did you ever become an international fashion icon?" I whispered to her as the lights went down.

"Fucked if I know," she replied. "I'm just milking it while it lasts."

The screen started in darkness, then slowly emerged into a dimly lit fog. In the gloom you began to make out figures engaged in repetitive actions amongst a debris strewn urban landscape. As they became clearer, you could see that they were dressed in kind of fucked up business wear topped off with what looked like home made steampunk style breathing masks. I smiled when I realised that Emily had used one of Thomas's music tracks, doom laden synths underscoring the actions of the dancers which represented them trying to recreate the motions of their ordinary business day in a system which had long since gone to hell in a handbasket; typing on semi-destroyed laptops, shouting down cell phones with shattered screens, bashing at a cash point that has been torn from a wall and thrown on it's side in the dirt, queuing for buses that would never come. The cinematography was awesome, a dank and depressing mundanity played out in the shadows of a shade of light Emily had cheekily called 'the colour of despair'.

Suddenly, a different figure begins to move amongst them, her entire physicality at odds with the environment. Although she is dressed the same as the others, she moves with a different purpose, striding amongst them and tearing down the representations of their former lives. She slams shut the computer screens, she tears the empty coffee cups from people's hands and finally she rips the mask away from her own head. The brilliant flash of Naomi's peroxide hair is the first colour we see in this nouveau hell, and it focuses a shocked attention from the other people in the crowd. Still she strides forward, and flashes of pyro colour start to follow her progress. Small stuff at first, flares and gerbs and the occasional mine. She begins to rip away her drab attire, and underneath we see she is wearing a stunningly vibrant red dress. As she flings away her former garb, red and gold candles and mines erupt around her. Several of the others try to stop her, but she nonchalantly tosses her head, and a barrage of flame projectors send them flying backwards.

Naomi raps on a heavy wooden door, which is opened by none other than myself, all smoky eyes and wild hair. Le regard ténèbreux, projetant ce je ne sais quoi qui n'appartient qu'à moi. Katie had insisted on the cameo, saying she wanted to get my face known, and when Katie decides she wants something, who are we mere mortals to argue? I hand Naomi an arming key, our fingers lingering in the touch before she continues on her way. Thomas's track hurls itself into a fat and frantic bass drop, and the shot changes to Naomi climbing effortlessly up the side of a ruined building and then expands to take in a hardcore bitchfest of aerial material going off all round the site. The place is a riot of colour and noise, as she surveys her territory from the roof of the building. And in an awesome final shot, we switch to a close full body shot of her standing in amongst an array of tubes as they send off their cargo into the sky with a roaring burst of flame. We got her as close as we dared, but Emily had foreshortened the shot so it looks like she is virtually right amongst the conflagration. Another camera starts to zoom into those hypnotising blue eyes until all we can see is the colour of the explosions reflected there, and the tagline read in Emily's husky voice says 'Detonate by Diamond. Explode your potential…' before switching to a shot of the perfume bottle surrounded by flame, and colourful explosions composited within it's confines.

The lights came up on our stunned features and Emily turned to face us.

"Well, what do you reckon?" she asked us.

Neither Katie or I had much of a chance to answer her as Naomi had pretty much leapt on her and was snogging her face off.

"Your sister has a seriously sexy voice," I said to Katie.

"I know," she replied. "She was going to get an actor in, but I made her do it instead."

"And you, mon Coeur, have a seriously sexy brain," I told her. "This is going to be huge."

"I can't wait to show the boys," she said.

"I dread to think what Cook's going to make of that," I replied.

"He's definitely going to need some alone time," she giggled.

Naomi made good on her dedication to the plan, dragging us off to the VIP room of some swanky club and drowning us in coke and expensive champagne until the dawn. It was 9am the next morning when the four of us were tottering unsteadily down the canal at Camden Lock as the rest of London was settling into it's working day.

"You're a fucking genius, Katie Fitch," slurred Naomi, chugging from a bottle of beer she had just procured from a Sainsbury's local.

"We're all a genius," responded Katie in a similarly inebriated fashion. "We're a right proper bunch of geniuses… genii? Geniee… clever fuckers, us."

"Look out world," sniggered Emily. "Here we come."

"I'll make you come," said Naomi suggestively, manoeuvring her lover against a wall and instigating a serious tonsil inspection.

Katie rolled her eyes and pulled me away to the water's edge.

"If I wake up in a field after this I will be most dischuffed," she said.

"It's going to be hard to find a field in the middle of Camden," I laughed.

"Why do we always end up by the canal?" she frowned the cutest little frown.

"Because canals always show you surprises in places you think you already know?" I shrugged.

"I love you," said Katie. "And I'm going to show the world the surprise that is you."

"And I'm going to marry you, Katie Fitch," I replied.

I said it just to watch the excited little shiver that ran through her body every time I reminded her of that. I could never get enough of it. Une fois mariées, j'allais devoir concocter mille et une autres façons de provoquer le même résultat. I was just about to kiss the face off her when I felt my phone buzzing away in my pocket.

"The fuck is this…" I mumbled as I fumbled to pull it out.

I frowned at the email in front of me, struggling to focus. I decided I needed a grown up to help.

"Some woman from a magazine called Marie Claire wants to interview me," I said to Katie. "What should I say?"

Katie looked back at me with a knowing smile.

"You say yes," she grinned.

.

.

**Live Frenching results**

1. C'était comme si elles revenaient d'une nuit si superbe, qu'elles ne pouvaient pas contempler une séparation, même pour le bien de leur travail.

It was as if they had just spent such an amazing night together, they couldn't bear to let each other go, and go about their working day.

2. Je n'avais pas le moindre soupçon que six mois plus tard ce même elixir me serait offert sur un plateau.

I had no idea that six months down the line the same heady cocktail would be flung so temptingly in my path.

3. dès que j'appercevais Katie, à l'aise dans son milieu, une vague de désir me coupait le soufflé.

whenever I saw Katie in her natural environment, I could barely breathe from the desire.

4. Malgré les charmes distrayants de Katie Fitch, je demeure toujours Effy – Reine des feux d'artifice.

However much I am enchanted by Katie Fitch, I am still me – Effy, Queen of Pyro.

5. Anthea serait fière de moi. That Anthea would be proud of me.

6. Le regard ténèbreux, projetant ce je ne sais quoi qui n'appartient qu'à moi. Looking dark and mysterious as only I know how.

7. Une fois mariées, j'allais devoir concocter mille et une autres façons de provoquer le même résultat.

When we were married I was going to have to think up new and countless ways to get the same effect.


	30. Realigning The Stars

30. Realigning The Stars

Katie

I was nervous. I bit my lip as I watched the crowds milling about in anticipation, swiftly slipping into my game face if anyone showed an interest. Today was the first Saturday in December, the launch of Naomi's perfume campaign and the first time the ad was going to play on national TV. And of course I had arranged for a 'simply had to be there' party to coincide with the event. It wasn't that I wasn't used to handling big budgets, and co-ordinating high-end events, but it had always been just business, I had had no personal involvement other than professional pride. The past couple of months during the preparations, I had become a lot closer to Naomi, and although I had discovered that she was an astute businesswoman, I also found that she had a genuinely good heart. She had sidelined a percentage of the profits to go to a landmine charity, and another that helped the child victims of war. As well as being extremely focussed, she was also very funny and never too full of herself to have a laugh. In some ways she reminded me of Anna. Neither of them had forgotten their roots, and had somehow managed to retain a strong sense of self amongst the hysteria of the business. I could see how my sister had become so enamoured with her.

Although we had the support of the perfume house, and we had assembled an excellent team to market the product, the fact remained that Naomi had sunk an awful lot of her own money into the venture, and in essence I had been gambling with the assets of a friend, and my sister's girlfriend no less. I had confidence in what we were doing, but there was always the worry that it would somehow all go wrong, and I would have fucked things up for everybody. We had created a buzz about the screening of the ad, using all the social media stuff to get people talking about it even before they had seen it. Naomi had splashed out on a prime time slot right in the middle of the X-factor, and although it had cost her and arm and a leg, it was going to give us maximum impact. We had hired a hotel with large grounds down in Richmond, and put up a big screen, and invited lots of important players to the party.

It was about half an hour before the ad was due to screen, and the party was in full swing. We had DJ's both inside the main function room, and out in the garden, where we had placed a dozen or so beautiful sculptures that Cook had made, containing little bonfires for people to cluster around. I was on my own. Emily had pretty much done her part, and was already stoned, and God knows where Naomi and Effy were – no doubt hiding away from the limelight smoking, as had become a regular habit of theirs. The two of them had become quite the sisters in crime, and only seemed to encourage each other in their anti-social ways. It was ok, Effy had pyro to run, and Naomi was due to make a dramatic entrance just after the ad had been on.

But they had left me lurking, surrounded by the very people who had shunned me after my faux pas in Paris. Much to my surprise, it would appear that time is a great healer after all, as people started coming up to me of their own free will.

"Great party, Katie. You always knew how to throw a proper shindig."

"I heard you were the brains behind this thing, I'm intrigued."

"Fantastic idea, Katie. It's so very Naomi."

"Good to see you, we should do lunch sometime."

"So, Katie, are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

It was nice. To command the kind off attention I used to in the business, but part of me was laughing at the way they had begun to flock around me now that I was a attached to something new and cool. Not one of these arseholes had bothered to get in touch with me during my enforced exile in Bristol, and I had discovered that it was all too easy to live without them. I had reconnected with my family, and discovered a whole new one, and I had a beautiful fiancée who was so disinterested in anyone's fake-arsed bullshit it was almost divine. I excused myself from a young designer who had just broken away from Alessandro's house to set up on his own, and lurked in the doorway to the garden, pretending to look up something important on my iPad.

What I was in fact doing was engaging in my new favourite stress busting pastime – looking at the photos Marie-Claire had shot to go with their interview. The shots were gorgeous, and Effy looked so beautiful, it almost made me weak at the knees just looking at them. There were some of her in her firing suit, which always turned me on, but her hair and make-up had been done by the stylists, and her eyes shone out of the page at me with the intensity of a bomb with seconds left on the countdown. My fingers slid across the screen pulling the next image into view, and an involuntary shudder ran through my body as all my blood rushed zealously to my pussy. Effy, surrounded by pyro gear, a couple of large calibre 50mm candles slung casually over her shoulder, dressed in a vibrant scarlet ball gown, her hair all wild and fabulous, her other hand toying casually with a jewel encrusted zippo lighter.

Even now, I had to catch my breath every time I saw that photo. She didn't need that lighter. She was so fucking hot, she could have set off all that gear just by looking at it. For someone who often remained so stoic in the face of other human beings, her ability to hold a dialogue with the camera was unbelievable. I remembered thinking she was a model the first time I had seen her, and she had certainly shown the ability to captivate a lens. I'd caught up with the photographer later that day as she was reviewing some of her shots on her laptop.

"God she's stunning," she said, gazing at the screen. "And yet so fucking powerful with it. I'd go gay for a girl like her, like seriously."

"I believe you," I smiled and nudged her cheekily. "I did."

She immediately went bright red.

"Oh God, are you together?" she said in alarm. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to… but fuck, your girlfriend is gorgeous."

"Fiancee, actually," I smirked.

I never grew tired of saying that.

They had pitched the interview around the 'woman in a man's world' thing, and had presented Effy as a mysterious and enigmatic artist, which is just as well really, because she was a shocking interviewee and gave them virtually nothing to work with. Luckily I was there to fill in the gaps for my reluctant superstar. Poor Effy, she was just going to have to get used to a bit of time in the public eye, if I was to have my way. I knew what it took to get ahead in the glare of the spotlight, and although I would do my best to protect her from too much bullshit, it was a fact of life that her looks were not going to do us any harm at all.

I shut the image down before I became a drooling mess in front of everybody, and did a time check. Ten minutes to go. Just like Effy before she fired; when a show was about to launch was when I was at my finest. I flitted round checking with everyone who needed to be ready for the go, the DJ's and the VJ who would switch the big screen over to the live feed, and of course Effy and Naomi. I had flatscreens up in the room for anybody who was too fragile to face the cold, but a grabbed a mic from the DJ and made an announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way out into the garden, where our advert will be playing in just a couple of minutes."

I smiled at the buzz that went round the crowd, as people topped up their drinks and made their way outside. This was it, the moment of truth. The big screen flipped on to catch the dying moments of some wannabe hopeful, murdering a classic tune in that special reality tv way, before the presenter announced that they were going to a break. I watched the colours of the programme logo dance across the screen, and held my breath.

It would seem I wasn't the only one as an attentive silence fell across the crowd as they were drawn into the mysterious world that Emily had created. Just as I had hoped, there were a few gasps as Naomi pulled off her mask to reveal herself on screen. This mutated into murmurs of approval as she began to make her pyrotechnic progress across the site.

"Oh, that's the firework girl," a man behind me said excitedly, as my beloved made her appearance through the door, and I allowed myself a self-satisfied grin. I love it when a plan comes together, and Effy's face was becoming known. As the ad began to come to its climax, there were several oohs and ahhs. It would seem that pyro never failed to drag our inner children out of hiding. The big screen was a fucking fantastic idea, as Emily's stunning final shot of the reflections in Naomi's eyes held every single person mesmerised. The VJ froze the shot of the bottle of perfume, and Effy ran a candle chase round the edges of the frame of the screen before the whole thing erupted in a fizzing shower of golden gerb sparks. Mines crackled into life in the garden, and just as a bunch of aerial material exploded in the night sky, Naomi appeared through a curtain beneath the screen wearing the same red dress from the ad. She strode forward with the same powerful purpose, as Effy pulled off her usual trick of making it appear the blonde was controlling the pyro by her very presence. Naomi performed perfectly, keeping her cool as it appeared the world was exploding in perilous proximity to her. When she stopped at the appointed place, the sky was filled with a massive burst of light as she raised her arms above her head. As the final stars faded out from their beautiful but brief existence, the DJ replayed our tagline.

"Detonate by Diamond – Explode Your Potential"

The crowd burst into a riotous round of applause, and Naomi stepped forward ready to grace them with her presence, but Emily got there first, claiming her lover with a kiss, and the flash bulbs that surrounded them set off another kind of fireworks. I left them, knowing that they would both do what was necessary, charming the life out of everyone there, and went backstage to find my woman.

Effy was shutting down her firing system when I found her, and I hesitated for a moment, revelling in the simple pleasure of watching her work. It didn't last of course. Effy, being Effy, already knew that I was there. She looked up and smiled at me.

"How was it for you?" she asked, with a wicked look in her eye.

"Breathtaking, as usual," I replied.

She looked me up and down appreciatively as I stood there in the middle of her site in a shockingly expensive dress Naomi had nabbed for me from her last job.

"I was about to say the same thing," said Effy. "I'd kiss you, but I don't want to get pyro muck on that dress."

"I don't mind," I said hoarsely. I would have given anything to have her kiss me right then.

"Soon," she replied in a voice that made me melt. "I'll come and find you when we've cleared up the site."

"I could help you," I said, not wanting to be parted from her for a second.

"Don't be daft," she smiled warmly. "Go and do what your best at. Go and schmooze the pants off everyone."

"I'd rather charm the pants off you," I said.

"Well I sure we can arrange that at a later point," she smirked. "Doesn't Katie Fucking Fitch always get what she wants?"

"I want you," I gushed. "I want you forever."

"Go," urged Effy gently. "And I promise that later you can have me any way you want."

"Any chance of filming that?" said Cook, appearing from behind me with a handful of live. I rolled my eyes at him, but secretly I was glad. I don't think I would have made it out of there if he hadn't broken the spell.

I had barely been back in the room for ten minutes before Naomi grabbed me and dragged me off to the private hotel room we had been using as her dressing room.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're a fucking genius, Katie Fitch," she said reaching into a drawer and extracting and enormous bag of coke. "People fucking love it."

"They love you, Naomi," I laughed.

"Yeah, but you all," she said racking out a pair of rather generous lines. "You all just made me look awesome."

"Not hard, babes," I said to her. "You're beautiful."

"It's my job," she shrugged. "And I won't be beautiful forever. You've helped me start investing in my future. And this way I can always look after Ems."

"You know, underneath all this badass image, you're really as soppy as shit," I giggled.

"Says the girl who got proposed to in fucking flames," she scoffed. "Besides, she's my Emily, what else am I to do?"

She held out the mirror with the drugs on.

"Ladies first," she grinned.

After we had both partaken, she dropped the drugs back into the drawer.

"You've got the spare key to this room," she said. "So you and Effy and the boys, you just come and help yourself whenever you want."

My mind flicked back to my friends and how they loved to party.

"It's a good job that's a fucking big bag," I said.

After Naomi's little pick me up, the party suddenly became a whole lot more fun. Of course I was still working the room, but I found myself really enjoying it. When you're high like this your arsehole filter drops right off the scale, and suddenly everybody is fascinating. All the people I had dismissed so easily earlier in the evening were now my best of friends. I believed them when they told me they had missed me, and I was flattered when they asked me when I was coming back. Suddenly, I saw my old life opening back out in front of me, the power, the money, the attention. And with every trip back into Naomi's dressing room I was becoming increasingly seduced.

I sensed her before I even saw her. A strange instinctive tingling in the back of my neck. It made me turn away from the DJ I'd been watching, and drew my gaze in her direction. She was waiting for me, her eyes blazing into mine. Oh those eyes had always been the fucking death of me. She was the headlights and I was the poor fucking bunny rabbit. I could do nothing but stare at her with my jaw half open, as she stalked across the room towards me. The way that she moved turned my legs to jelly, and the filthy intent in her eyes had robbed me of my senses. The dress she wore clung to her every curve and shimmered chameleon-like in the ever-changing light show. So beautiful and so dangerous, I was as helpless as I had ever been since the first time I kissed her. With the heightened awareness of the drugs, I could feel my heart hammering violently against my rib cage as she approached. My skin practically sizzled when she put her hand on my arm, and I offered no resistance as she gently pushed me back against the wall. I knew she was going to kiss me and my rebellious lips were parted to receive her before I could stop and think. The taste of her unleashed its usual deadly combination of cocktails in my brain, and her tongue possessed me with a knowing calm. It was all so beautiful and so familiar, and my hands flew up instinctively to tangle in her gorgeous hair. I moaned into her mouth as she pressed her body more firmly against mine, and I knew this was a lust that could be the end of me. She shifted her thigh against me and started a fire in my cunt that would have had me willingly spreading my legs for her had she not pulled back and stared into my eyes as if I was the most precious thing in the world.

"I love you," she said, and though the throaty drawl of her voice was nothing but pure seduction, I believed her. I could fucking feel it coming off her in waves. There was little I could do but plaintively call her name.

"Anna," I said.

"My love, my Katie," she whispered. "How I have ached for you night after night. I have been only half woman without you in my arms. I have died and lived again as nothing but zombie. Only you can make me breathe again."

She kissed me again, and shockingly, I just fucking let her. I was lost in the moment, and the way her hands felt on my body felt all too fucking right. She was my Anna, the woman who had stolen my reluctant heart. We had given everything to each other, and the physical memory of our passion was ruling me right now. Even the sound of her voice was like the music of a song I had learned in childhood the melody of which would never leave me. I couldn't help but think of how it had felt when she had been inside me, and it made my pussy clench and I cried out into our kiss. Anna took this as a sign of encouragement and slid her hands around my arse to pull me tighter. But as she did so I suddenly felt as if I had been torn in two. I didn't belong to Anna any more. I belonged to someone else. My hands were heavy as I tried to raise them to push her away, my mind had shattered in confusion, and I was left with only my traitorous physicality to help me find my way. I knew that I loved Effy, but I had been shocked at how easily I had fallen back under Anna's spell. And falling I was, if I didn't put a stop to it I would be broken on impact. I had to give myself time to think. Eventually I found a strength from somewhere, and withdrew my consent.

"Anna, no," I said, pulling her head back with one hand, and placing the other on her heart. "I can't do this."

"Well I'm glad you decided to come up for air," came a heartwrenchingly familiar voice.

I turned my head to find Effy staring at the pair of us leaning diffidently against the wall.

"I thought I was going to have to set the dogs on you," she smirked. "Or maybe Jenna…."

"Effy," I said somewhat uselessly, there was no denying that she had seen me in a passionate clinch with Anna.

Just as I had when Freddie had revealed my secret, I searched her eyes for anger but found none. If anything, it was Anna who was the more agitated of the two.

"Please fuck off," she glowered at Effy. "We are in middle of something important."

"I can see that," said Effy. "But it's kind of important for me too. I need to stick around to see what happens."

God, she was cool. It seemed that when the world around her was at its most volatile and dangerous, Effy was at her calmest. I could feel myself beginning to sweat. I was coked up to my eyeballs, and my heart was still pounding. Both of them were staring at me and I felt crushed beneath their gazes. Poor little fucking bunny rabbit.

"Please, Katie," said Anna. "Let's get out of here. We need to talk, we need to make sensational love."

"Interesting," said Effy smoothly, cocking her head to one side.

Anna pushed herself off me in a dramatic fashion.

"Who the fuck is this woman?" she frowned.

For a moment I was speechless. How do you explain Effy?

"She's Effy Stonem," I said, as if that would tell her everything.

"Whatever," said Anna throwing up her hands. "Tell her to go away. I need you, Katie. I need to be with you. I need you to forgive me."

There were a thousand and one things confusing me right now, but suddenly for the first time ever, one thing became perfectly clear, and it was something of as revelation.

"I do," I said to Anna. "I do forgive you."

"Oh thank the gods," said Anna, pulling me into a warm embrace, and clinging onto me tightly. "I couldn't stand it, my angel. I just couldn't stand it."

It was a struggle to see over her shoulder given how tall she was, but I fought to do it seeing as there was no way out of her vice-like grip. I found Effy's deep blue gaze still raining down on me.

"Sweet," she said, with that cocky little half smile of hers.

I couldn't understand it. When was she going to start fighting for me? Surely she wasn't just going to let me go?

"I want to make love to you, Katie Fitch," Anna murmured in my ear, and pulled away, grabbing my hand as if to take me off somewhere. But I stayed where I was until our arms reached full stretch and she was halted in her tracks. I didn't understand. When you're in love, you're not supposed to want anyone else like this, are you? My body was quite prepared to sleep with her. I couldn't just _know_ the right thing to do. I had to decide.

"Katie, what is problem?" Anna asked me gently.

In her eyes, forgiveness clearly meant that I would take her back.

"I think that might be me," said Effy, pulling out a fag and sparking up despite the fact that we were inside. She offered one to Anna, who seemed to come undone at this small act of kindness.

"Effy Stonem," she said, accepting the gift, all irritation ebbing away. "I understand. Of course you want Katie, she is… well she is goddess in human form. Small tiny fuckable goddess. And, I can see why, she might want you back. You are beautiful girl. But what you don't understand is that Katie and I, we are written in stars. She is the love of my life."

"And therein lies our problem," countered Effy. "The thing about the universe is that it is constantly shifting. Stars realign, they grow, they collapse, they die. New stars are born every day. The cosmos is not something to be relied on. She can rewrite her story, and Katie is the love of my life too."

"Is that so?" said Anna, drawing herself up to her full and not inconsiderable height. "Katie?"

"It's true," I conceded. "I love her."

"No it cannot be," said Anna, refusing to accept it. "I fought for you, I wooed you, I won you. What did she do?"

"All of that and more," I said.

"But she cannot love you as much as I do," protested Anna. "_Remember_, Katie. Remember what we had. You cannot love her as much as you love me."

I had forgotten just how fucking persistent Anna could be.

"I'd like to test that theory," grinned Effy.

"What is it you people say?" said Anna, her tigress rising with every word. "Be careful what you wish for? So be it."

She pulled upon my hand, which was still somehow inexplicably tangled with hers, and drew me towards her. And then she kissed me. Soft, delicate and full of love. Again it sent my senses spinning. There had been a time when being kissed by Anna Markova was the pinnacle of my existence. She wrapped her hand around my neck and pulled me closer, and once more I did nothing to stop her. I felt my life spinning out of control. Was everything I had been through with Effy worth so little, it could be ripped apart as easily as this? But Anna was an honourable woman, and having accepted Effy's challenge she was prepared to give her rival her shot. She stepped away from me, but fixed me with a deeply emotional stare. I couldn't pretend that she didn't still have a hold on me. If it hadn't been for Effy, I would have been in her arms and in her bed in seconds.

"Now you," she said turning to Effy defiantly.

Seriously? She was going to turn this into some kind of macho kiss off between her and Effy? I turned to Effy in alarm, silently begging her not to let it come to this. The look of amusement on her face did nothing to placate me. She had her head cocked to the side again in that way of hers, and she looked like she was weighing up the pros and cons of the offer. The thing was, I genuinely had no idea what she would do. For all that I knew her, and all that we had shared, Effy was still in essence a woman of mystery. Her smile grew from quizzical to downright evil, and for the first time since the start of the encounter, she pushed herself off the wall.

"Effy don't," I warned her.

But Effy wasn't coming for me.

She assumed a stalker's prowl every bit as effective as the one Anna had used on me, disarming her prey with an overt sexuality, and I saw how easily she must have gobbled up the victims of her youth. Anna was certainly caught in her trance as Effy manoeuvred her back against the wall and kissed her with every ounce of the passion that made her such an irresistible lover. I looked on in morbid fascination as the two women I had loved most in my life engaged in a lip lock of spectacular proportions. Was I angry, jealous, uncomfortable? No. Instead my drug-addled body was engulfed in a shameful wave of desire. It was hot, ridiculously hot and all I wanted to do was watch, my so-called morals but a distant memory from when I thought I knew it all. I saw Anna's body capitulate to Effy's force of will, and I knew exactly how it felt to be kissed by her like that. So it was no surprise when her hands moved up to wrap around Effy's back and into her hair. She was just as lost as any of the poor weak souls who were subjected to Effy's charms. It was only when Effy pulled away that Anna seemed to regain her senses.

"What the fuck?" she said, her eyes wide with a mixture of desire and disbelief.

"So now you know," said Effy trailing her hand down between Anna's breasts. "Imagine that with love behind it, and you'll know exactly what I can give to Katie."

I burst out laughing. What else could I do? There was no road map for this kind of situation. No simplistic set of instructions with a list of do's and don't's. My moral compass had been demagnetised and the needle was spinning in all directions. But when Effy smiled at me, I knew I could find my path even in the dark. I already knew my way back to her heart.

"Je t'aime," I told her.

"I know," she said. "I trusted you."

"Then what was all that about?" I asked, but without any hint of malice.

"Well, I had to watch you kissing the face off her," she shrugged. "Although it was kinda hot."

Her eyes cut into me like she knew exactly what I had been thinking.

"So now we're even," she grinned.

"Anna," she said, turning her attention back to the Russian. "I get it, I really do. If I had lost Katie I wouldn't want to give her up either. You are a seriously gorgeous woman, and there was a time before I opened my heart to her that she was already considering coming back to you. She loved you, and a good part of her clearly still does, but I'm prepared to live with that. But I'm not going to let you take her away from me."

"How will you stop me?" said Anna, pulling herself together for the next round of the fight.

"I won't have to," replied Effy, and I knew that she was right.

She didn't have to scream at me. She didn't have to punch Anna's lights out. She didn't have to prove herself in any way. She just had to carry on being her usual unconventional, unpredictable self. When you are loved by someone who will not abide by the rules of the game, you know you are truly loved.

"You know if it was just a sexual thing," she continued. "I'd say fuck it, let's all get a room and get stuck in together. God knows, I've fancied you since I was a girl."

Even I was shocked at the images that flashed salaciously through my head at her words. Katie Fitch, you are a very, very, very bad girl. I couldn't help but glance across at Anna, and for the first time in my life a saw a shadow of guilt work it's way across her features. It seems I wasn't the only one whose brain was splashing about in the gutter right then.

"But sadly, it's not," said Effy. "We both love her, and it would not end well. So I'm standing up and staking my claim. If you'll have me Katie, I'm still yours."

"Acknowledged," said Anna. "You will be worthy opponent. All is fair in love and war, no?"

"Not quite," said Effy. "I do have a somewhat unfair advantage."

"You do?" said Anna.

I could tell she was trying not to let Effy rattle her, but it was a struggle.

"I liked it," smirked Effy. "So I put a ring on it."

I never in all my days thought I would hear Effy quoting Beyoncé, but it was hysterically funny. I burst out into a frighteningly manic laugh once more, more out of relief that there wasn't going to be some violent cat fight over my honour than anything else. But my laughter was short-lived. Anna recoiled in horror at Effy's words, and she looked like the brunette had just sunk a machete into her chest.

"You're married?" she said with a devastated look on her face.

"Engaged," conceded Effy. "But that's not going to change anytime soon."

"You said yes?" Anna asked me, looking like her entire world was about to implode.

"I did," I said.

My Anna was tough and proud. In all the time I had known her I had never once seen her cry, but as she stared at the two of us I could see her eyes beginning to mist up. She said nothing as a single tear escaped and formed its tracks across her cheek.

"I'm sorry," I said with feeling. I wasn't used to seeing Anna vulnerable.

"I'm sorry too," said Effy. "That's two hearts I have broken for Katie, but I can't help it. I'm going to marry this girl."

She touched me for the first time during the whole encounter, her fingers discreetly reaching for mine as she stood next to me, and tangling with me in a subtle gesture of reassurance. Anna just looked lost. Her tears were flowing more freely now, but still she remained silent. I was fighting the urge to reach out and wipe her tears away. She had spent the last two years believing she could win me back, just as she had won my heart in the first place. Now that belief was gone. Effy had been right about one thing, I did still love her in some way, but I couldn't give her what she needed. She shook her head, and slowly started to back away.

"Anna," I called out after her.

"Don't Katie," she said. "Not now. Maybe some day, but not now."

I had to watch her walk away. It felt terrible not to be able to say a proper goodbye. In my rage of two years ago, I had wanted nothing more to do with her, but now I felt a little empty without her. I finally understood how hard it must have been for Effy to give up her friendship with Freddie for me, but she was as ever, right. The stars had written a new story, and that story was ours.

"Are you ok?" said Effy softly.

"I will be," I said, pulling her in for a hug. "What about you? That can't have been easy for you."

"Like I said," she whispered. "I trusted you. I believe in us. Besides, I did get to kiss Anna Markova. That's one major teenage fantasy ticked off the list."

She slid her hands around my bum.

"Cook's going to be so jealous," I could feel her grinning into my shoulder. "I mean _these_ hands have been on _those_ tits…"

"You copped a feel?" I said in outrage, pushing her away from me.

"Tu sais que je suis vilaine," she winked at me.

"Et je t'aime precisement comme ça…," I replied.

"Well, now that we've sorted that out, I bumped into Naomi just now, and she mentioned something about a monster stash of coke…"

Naomi fucking Campbell. The thought of her jolted me out of my shock and suddenly I saw red. I stalked furiously off across the party, with Effy trailing in my wake. It was Emily who spotted me first as I approached, and her features fell as she spotted all the signs of a full on Katie rage. She instinctively stepped forward to form a tiny Fitch-sized barrier between me and her lover.

"What the fuck do you think you were playing at?" I exploded towards Naomi.

"What have I done now?" she responded with her usual diffidence.

"Anna," I spat at her.

"Oh," said Naomi guiltily.

"What the fuck did you invite her for?"

"She's my friend," replied Naomi honestly. "Quite a fucking good friend actually since I got to know her properly. I wasn't going to not invite her to my party."

"But you knew she'd try and get me back," I yelled. "Didn't you even think about Effy?"

"I was thinking about Effy," argued Naomi. "And Anna. No-one else had the balls to tell her you were seeing someone else, and it was about time she knew. And I knew it had to come from you before she'd believe it."

"Well I think you better go and find your friend," I told her. "She might be a little upset right now."

"What did you say to her?" said Naomi accusatorily.

"I think it was more me," interjected Effy.

"What did _you_ say to her?" repeated Naomi.

"I think I broke her heart," said Effy. "Well shattered it really."

I didn't see Anna or Naomi again that night. I hoped that she had found her, and was able to provide some form of comfort. Effy and I didn't talk much either. Our hotel room had a balcony so we took the duvet out there, and just drank and smoked and did lines until we could barely focus. I didn't really know what to say to her, but I clung on tightly when she shivered into my side. It was a cold clear night, and you could see the stars, even through the light pollution from the city. I caught Effy gazing up at the constellations as if she was receiving wisdom from them.

"Babes, are we going to be alright?" I asked her.

"We will be," she said, without looking down at me. "We will be."

.

.

.

"Tu sais que je suis vilaine," she winked at me.

"Et je t'aime precisement comme ça…," I replied.

"You know that I'm bad," she winked at me.

"And I love you all the same…" I replied.


	31. A Thousand Revolutions

31. A Thousand Revolutions

Effy

"Enough," I said, stopping Katie in her tracks. Her constant guilt since the incident with Anna was beginning to wear thin. Although to be fair I had used it mercilessly to my advantage as I persuaded her to come here to France rather than endure a Fitch Family Christmas. Malgré mes efforts de courtoisie, à la suggestion de Naomi, l'idée de me séquestrer avec eux pendant la période hystérique des fêtes me glaçait le sang. I knew this would place me back in the ranks of the devils in their eyes, but I asked Katie the question that was the dealbreaker.

"Will there be Christmas jumpers?" I said.

"Oh God will there be Christmas jumpers," she rolled her eyes at me.

"Then we are going to fucking France," I replied.

Even though Anthea was wealthy, we had never been showered and spoiled with unnecessarily ostentatious presents as appeared to be the custom in England. Any ceremony was a lot more subtle and the festive season generally meant only two things in Anthea's household – more food and more wine. There was the chance to catch up with family though, and once I heard that Tony was coming home, there was no way I was going to miss out on that. Fortunately, Katie's contrition for her behaviour at Naomi's launch party made her very easy to persuade.

The thing was, she was wildly projecting. Seeing her kiss Anna hadn't bothered me nearly as much as she thought it had. Of course I didn't want to see her leave me for the Russian, but I had confidence that the bond we had built would stand the test. I know that things aren't black and white, that none of us really fit into the neat little boxes we're supposed to. I knew the pair of them had unfinished business, and I'm not so much of a fool as to think that love isn't a dirty, messy, hopeless business when it so clearly is. I myself have indulged in shocking sexual behaviours in my past, so who am I to judge?

Katie, however, has grown up with a different set of rules and judges herself far more harshly than I ever would. To me what she did was only natural in the face of their history, mais pour elle c'était un crime et elle trouvait le moyen de se chatier pour ses torts tous les jours depuis. Every morning I would wake up to find her staring at me intensely, searching to see if the cracks were starting to show, if this was the day I was finally going to bend to convention and castigate her for her sin. And every morning I would kiss her into reassurance, letting her know that I still loved her and there was no terrible crisis looming on the horizon. But there was always a lingering tension surrounding us. Nothing I could say or do seemed to convince her, and her own guilt kept smouldering away in the background thickening the very air with regret, and it was growing tiresome.

It was when I found her loading the Christmas tree with a ridiculous amount of presents for me, despite my telling her that that was not the way we did things here, that I finally snapped.

"Enough," I said, pushing her hands away from the gifts. "What do you think you're doing?"

Katie looked at the floor, refusing to meet my eyes.

"It's just a few stupid things," she muttered.

"No it's not, it's a payment," I countered. "You think that by spoiling me you can assuage your fucking guilt. Well it doesn't work like that. You can't buy a person's emotions, especially not mine."

Katie looked up, her eyes full of moisture.

"I'm not…" she started, but my icy stare cut away at her words.

"I'm not fooled, Katie," I said.

"Then what can I do?" she said pleadingly, the first of her tears breaching, and spilling delicately down her beautiful face. "I'll do anything. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Just stop this shit," I told her, more gently than before. "You don't have to do anything other than be the ballsy badass motherfucker that I fell in love with."

I stepped towards her and pulled her into an embrace.

"I don't want your contrition. I don't want your guilt," I continued. "In fact I need you to stop being so bloody Catholic about the whole thing."

"I just don't understand how you can forgive me," she said.

"So you were lying when you told Anna you forgave her?" I asked.

"No," said Katie.

"Then you do understand," I replied. "Fuck it, it's more than that. I don't even have to forgive you because you didn't do anything wrong."

"How do you work that one out?" muttered Katie.

I took a step back from her and opened my arms as if to show myself to her.

"I'm Effy," I said. "I'm not like all of the other girls. I don't give a shit that you kissed Anna. Je l'ai embrassée aussi, r'appelle-toi."

"Yeah, but you didn't find yourself wanting to fuck her," said Katie miserably.

"You think?" I said raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't entirely joking about that threesome idea, you know?"

I watched her eyes flash with fire at the thought of it.

"See," I smirked. "Morality is not something set in stone, it's something we have to work out for ourselves. It's a debate, and an ongoing one."

"You are fucking extraordinary," said Katie, softly touching my face. "Ever since I met you, you've kind of melted my boundaries, and completely redefined them."

"This is grown up love, Katie," I said. "Not the childish kind, where we pretend that neither of us has a past, or people we are connected to from that past. So what if it's messy? Doesn't mean it can't be beautiful. I decided to love you with Anna in your heart, and I'm not going back on that decision."

"I fucking love you," said Katie, advancing on me and pushing me down onto the nearest sofa. She came down after me, crawling on top of me and gifting me with a deliriously lustful kiss. It felt like the first honest kiss we had shared in the weeks since the party, and I was overjoyed to have my girlfriend back. I intensified the kiss, leaving her in no doubt that I was more than willing for things to turn sexual. Katie took the hint and started pushing me further onto my back until I felt the scrunching of a box collapsing beneath me. Katie ignored it, and started attacking my neck and pushing her thigh hard against my groin.

"What about the presents?" I whispered breathlessly, as her actions sent repeated contractions of hunger through my cunt.

"Fuck the presents," she replied, pulling away the crumpled bag from under me. "This is what you really want, isn't it?"

She pressed herself against me once more, and the eager thrust of my hips gave her her answer before I had the chance to tell her in words, but I did it all the same.

"Fuck me, baby," I told her.

Katie had no problems in complying and her hand was up my skirt in an instant. Neither of us paid any mind to the fact that we were in the enormous curved living room. Anthea had gone off to her favourite vineyard for more supplies, and even if she came back early it wouldn't matter. This wouldn't be the first time she would have caught me in flagrante delicto, and she would have just shrugged and wandered off somewhere else. Katie's fingers were scrabbling at the elastic of my knickers.

"Pants. Must. Go," she said in between frenzied kisses along my collar bone, but she seemed unable to drag her focus away from me long enough to remove them.

"I am so wet for you," I murmured to her sensually, and she abandoned the idea and simply pushed the fabric to one side.

"Oh fucking God," she moaned as her fingers slid into the moisture, and her eyes rolled back into her head in ecstasy. Her groan of excitement was followed by one of my own, as her pupils widened and she pushed herself inside me.

"Oh putain, que c'est bon!" I cried as she withdrew and repeated the motion. She slid in and out of me smoothly, her fingers moving easily within the deluge between my thighs. I cried each time she filled me, the emptiness before only amplifying the sensations as she stimulated my G-spot. I clutched whatever parts of the sofa I could reach and angled my hips up to receive her. Her increase in pace was subtle, but it introduced a whole new wave of pleasure as she read every little nuance of my need for her. Her head was resting between my breasts, and I could feel the bulge of her bicep on her supporting arm as she moved against me.

Again she pumped a little faster, but still dragged my body in her wake in perfect unison. I couldn't get enough of her fucking me, and I started thrusting harder against her in response. She lifted her head from its resting place and looked downwards to where my restless body pushed so ravenously against her own. I knew the way Katie's eyes looked at moments like these and I longed to see them, but she kept her focus rooted to what she was doing to me and the effect that it was having. Suddenly her eyes flickered up and met mine.

"Je veux que tu jouisse pour moi," she said to me in French, and started fucking me really fast. I wanted her so much I shoved my hips at her till I was practically bouncing off the cushions to open myself up to her rapid thrusts. It felt so fucking good, but it only made me need her more, and our movements became frenzied, animalistic as the guttural sounds of unbridled lust emitted from both our throats.

"Je suis a toi, mon Effy," whispered Katie with intent, and her words had my walls slamming shut on her as I shrieked my way through a lengthy orgasm that left me almost bereft of oxygen. She collapsed onto my belly, her fingers still buried deep inside me, where they remained as I trembled with uncontrollable aftershocks. My limbs felt heavy, and it was a struggle to move them, even to welcome her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I thought we'd gotten over this shit," I croaked in the breathless slur of the recently fucked.

If I hadn't been so shagged out, I might have been irritated. Also, she was grinning at me.

"No," smirked Katie. "I'm sorry for being such a dickwad. You're right. Who cares if I had a momentary lapse with an old flame? This is us, and this is now, and we are fucking magnificent, and not even Anna Markova can do anything about that."

She kissed me, and started moving her fingers inside me, subtly stroking the front of my pussy. My eyes widened at the sensation. De nouvelles avalanches de plaisir dégringolèrent au creux de moi. What the fuck was she doing to me?

I didn't have the chance to find out, as I was dragged from my abandon by the sound of strange voices in the hallway. The sound of voices talking to each other in English.

"Tony," I said with a smile as I realised it was my brother and his wife conversing in the language that they shared.

"Fuck," hissed Katie, pulling out of me in panic.

Another brief surge of sensation swamped me as she withdrew, causing me to moan and roll my eyes. Katie stopped dead and then leaned back down to kiss me.

"You are the sexiest woman alive, do you know that?" she said.

The words were almost out of my mouth before I had the sense to bite them back. Sexier than Anna? It was all too easy to be unguarded around Katie, but I was lucky there were still a few active brain cells swimming around in the post-coital mush. The last thing we needed was another full on guilt attack from her, just when I'd managed to diffuse things a little.

"Well hang onto your knickers, baby. You're about to meet the sexiest man alive too," I grinned.

"I don't think you're supposed to feel that way about your brother," teased Katie, trying to push her hair back into some sort of order.

She got up quickly, already fussing over her appearance, but my limbs were still heavy and I found it hard even to drag myself into a sitting position. Sex with Katie always left me more delightfully drained than any of my previous lovers. There would be little point in trying to hide my current state from Tony anyway. He would pick it up in seconds. He had had an uncanny empathy with me ever since we were kids. It was only my rising excitement at seeing him that managed to drag me from my repose. It had been so fucking long. I ran a casual hand through my hair, earning me a benevolent smile from Katie and we made our way out into the hallway.

There amidst a pile of scruffy looking luggage stood my gorgeous brother, his beautiful Japanese wife Musuki and, staring up at the intertwining slides all around him as if he had just entered the Kingdom of Heaven, a person I had never met, Romain, my nephew. A year and a half or so of emailed photographs had not prepared me for the rush of emotion I experienced at seeing the little boy's face for the first time. Une personne complète, formée avec de l'ADN que je partageais He was stunning, his Eurasian features lit up in wonder as he stared about him in delight, too absorbed in his surroundings to notice the arrival of two slightly dishevelled girls.

"Salut frangine ," Tony smirked at me. "On dirait qu'on t'a baisé à l'envers et à l'endroit."

I turned to Katie to see her rapidly turning a shade of very bright red. Tony had spoken in French, meaning to include only me, as Musuki and he operated almost exclusively in English. He hadn't factored in Katie's willingness to learn our language, nor the fact that though she may not be up to scratch on genders, declensions and irregular verbs, her knowledge of swear words and sexual terms was almost encyclopaedic.

"Nice to see you too, bro," I replied in English in order to include Misuki. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Katie."

"Enchanté," he said, kissing her on both cheeks. "This is my wife, Misuki, and our son. Romain, come here and meet your Auntie Effy and her girlfriend."

The little boy turned and looked at us and his face split into a cheeky grin that was the spitting image of his father's. I dropped to my knees and opened my arms to him. He checked me out for a couple of seconds before deciding I was OK, and shuffling over towards me. He let me cuddle him for a little while before pulling away and studying my face with an intensity unusual in one so young. The boy was definitely a Stonem.

"Eyes like Daddy," he declared.

Having been raised in South America amongst Hispanics and Native South Americans, blue eyes would have been a rarity for him and he certainly seemed fascinated by mine.

"Where's Mum?" asked Tony, breaking our moment.

"Vineyard," I shrugged.

"Figures," he laughed.

I could feel Katie hovering next to me, and when I looked up she was jiggling nervously, desperately wanting to have a go on the cute little boy.

"Who lady?" asked Romain, pointing at her.

Katie dropped down to his level.

"I'm Katie," she said. "And I love your Aunty Effy very very much."

He gave her the same close scrutiny he had afforded me, whilst Katie just gawped back at him, already clearly in love. Romain seemed to be satisfied, and nodded his head seriously.

"Eyes like Mummy," he said. "Nice."

I had never considered it before, but the shape of Katie's deep brown eyes did give off a slight hint of Eurasian, and as she cuddled my nephew, a thought flashed across my mind wondering what her own children would look like. What? The Fuck? What? The thought was gone as soon as it arrived, but I was still in shock that it had ever surfaced at all. Instinct told me to bury it deeply back where it belonged, but it had still unnerved me. Marriage? Thoughts of progeny? What in the name of all things holy was this fucking woman doing to me? Peu importe; elle faisait du quotidien des périples allechants qui me mettaient sans dessus dessous. Fortunately, I was prevented from sinking any further into panic by the arrival of my mother and the joyous reunion with her firstborn and her grandchild swept all other emotions away in its wake.

Several hours later, once everyone had settled in, Anthea opened some of her booty from the vineyard and we began to gather round the Christmas tree for the distribution of presents, prior to our Christmas Eve dinner. Romain had already gone to bed and would be given his gifts in the morning. Katie had been helping Anthea in the kitchen earlier, but now she was glued to her iPad.

"Katie," I hissed at her urgently.

"What?" she frowned.

"Put that down," I urged her.

"Yeah, in a minute, babes," she said absently. "Just got some figures coming in about the pre-Christmas sales of Detonate."

"It's Christmas Eve," I protested.

"Yeah and?" countered Katie, her brow still creased in concentration.

I decided to become proactive and whipped the thing out of her hands.

"We're in France," I explained somewhat unnecessarily. "And in France, we celebrate on the 24th. You wouldn't work on Christmas Day, would you?"

Katie's adorable guilty pout told me that's exactly what she would do if it was important enough to her.

"Tonight is a time for family, and food and wine," I said. "You should forget about business for a while."

"But it's for us, Effy. For you," she protested. "So that you can get to fulfil your dream."

"And part of my dream includes spending time with my beautiful girl," I insisted. "It can wait."

I felt a sudden wave of empathy for Anna. Katie was a natural businesswoman, and something of a workaholic. Our fortunes had changed dramatically in the few short months she had been working with us, but sometimes I still felt the need to try to slow her down, to help her understand that there were other things in life that were just as important. Even though her efforts were all on my behalf, sometimes she became so focussed on her work it was hard to get her to think about anything else. I imagined what it must have been like for the Russian, trying to maintain a long distance relationship with someone so driven. I could disappear into my own head and my own passions, but for someone more needy and emotional, I could understand how she might have felt like she was being neglected. It was obvious that we both loved Katie passionately, but to love her was to understand the things that made her the phenomenal woman that she was, and her drive to succeed and to take control of her working environment was one of them. J'allais devoir faire preuve d'intelligence et de patience, j'allais devoir donner à Katie l'espace qu'il lui faillait pour être elle-même. To recognise that for her, her business skills _were_ her art and that they fed her every bit as much as my creativity fed me.

All through the exchange of gifts and the beautiful dinner that followed it, she was slightly twitchy. It was as if her iPad was burning a hole in the sofa where I had left it, and she was itching to douse the fire. Even though she was trying to enjoy herself and engage with me and my family, chattering away in French and English, and asking Misuki a raft of questions about Japan and their life in Guatemala, there was still a certain restlessness about her. When she came back from a toilet break with a satisfied grin on her face, I knew the game was up.

"So, how _are_ sales going?" I smirked at her.

"What?" she said defensively.

"You checked your iPad when you went to the toilet, didn't you?" I smiled.

"Yeah," she said with a nervous hint of apology.

I couldn't be angry with her, any more than I could be angry with a fish for swimming or a monkey for climbing trees. It was in her blood.

"Well?" I prompted, causing a massive grin to break out over her beautiful features.

"Through the fucking roof," she smiled.

Later, curled up around her in bed, my face buried deep against her skin, breathing in the scent of her that I found so engagingly addictive, I asked her what had happened to all the presents she had gotten me, seeing as only one or two had manifested themselves at our opening ceremony.

"You were right," she said. "I did overbuy for you out of guilt and remorse, but it was fucking stupid because you're so fucking amazing, and you never tried to punish me. It was all on me. But I fucking love you, Effy, so I'm just going to keep them and spontaneously surprise you at random points throughout the year. Cause you're not just special for Christmas. You're special for life."

I thought back to the conversation I'd had with Freddie about love not being a passive thing, that once love had been declared we couldn't just settle back and expect it not to change. Que l'amour était un choix que l'on faisait consciemment chaque jour et qu'il faillait continuer à s'acharner pour le mériter. And I still felt that way now, even though the intensity of my passion for Katie far exceeded anything I had felt for him. After the drama of our forbidden love, you might have forgiven us for relaxing and basking in a fait accompli. But love is never a fait accompli, it is a living fluid thing. The story never ends with the fairytale kiss, and there's so much more living that has to go on beyond that point. I knew that Jim and Anthea had once known great passion, but that they had tragically failed to adapt, and that once they had stopped falling in love with each other over and again, their lives began to shatter around them. Tony and Misuki had met under horrifically tragic circumstances, but they had reinvented themselves on the other side of the world, and now they had a beautiful son to show for it. Katie and I had been threatened by my depression, by her subterfuge, by the Shakespearean enmity between our clans and by the reappearance of Anna, but we had evolved. We had learned to adapt.

Maybe the secret to sustainability is not to love absolutely, like Freddie and Anna, but to hold a love that is not afraid of flux. To find a love where your heart can undergo a thousand tiny revolutions a day. Katie rolled over to face me, and I stared into her emotive brown eyes in wonder and pride. This woman had fought for me, and she would continue to do battle with anything that stood in our way, even the perilously flammable parts of our own hearts. We can plan all we like, but we can never truly know what's to become of us, but with Katie there will always be revolution, chaque jour une nouvelle libération.

Avec elle je suis vivante et je n'ai pas peur du combat.

Fin – The End

**A/N: So here's another story that ends with a beginning. The future is unwritten. Only one short year ago SJ, the wonderful lady for whom this piece was created had only just survived a coma we didn't know whether she would wake up from. But now she is out of hospital, making steady recovery. She has found love, and is looking forward to being able to travel again and discovering life anew. One year ago blueeyedfrog02 was just some French chick on the other side of the world, who I'd asked to help me with a story. Now she is my lover, and my own life might be about to change radically because of that. So happy endings do happen, but we have to make them for ourselves, and keep on fighting to make sure they stay happy. Never give up, my brave soldiers, there's a whole world out there just waiting for you. I hope you have enjoyed our little collaboration, and that it has entertained or inspired you in some way. It's au revoir for now, but onwards, upwards, ever forwards…**

**Spread the Love**

**Hypes xx**

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Our French interpretations

1. Malgré mes efforts de courtoisie, à la suggestion de Naomi, l'idée de me séquestrer avec eux pendant la période hystérique des fêtes me glaçait le sang.

Though I was doing my best to embrace them as Naomi suggested I should, the thought of them amplified by festive hysteria was too much to bear.

2. Mais pour elle c'était un crime et elle trouvait le moyen de se chatier pour ses torts tous les jours depuis.

but to her it was a sin, and she's been punishing herself for it ever since.

3. Je l'ai embrassée aussi, r'appelle-toi - I kissed her too remember?"

4. "Oh putain, que c'est bon!" - "Oh fuck, you feel so good,"

5. "Je veux que tu jouisse pour moi," – I want you to come for me

6. "Je suis a toi, mon Effy," – I am yours, my Effy

7. De nouvelles avalanches de plaisir dégringolèrent au creux de moi.

Whole new avalanches of pleasure started to tumble through my body.

8. Une personne complète, formée avec de l'ADN que je partageais.

A whole new person made from some of the DNA I carried inside my own body

9. "Salut frangine," Tony smirked at me. "On dirait qu'on t'a baisé à l'envers et à l'endroit."

"Hey sis," Tony smirked at me. "You look like you've been fucked through a hedge backwards."

10. Peu importe; elle faisait du quotidien des périples allechants qui me mettaient sans dessus dessous

Whatever it was, she made normality seem acceptably dangerous in a way that was turning me upside down.

11. J'allais devoir faire preuve d'intelligence et de patience: j'allais devoir donner à Katie l'espace qu'il lui faillait pour être elle-même.

I was going to have to be intelligent about it, and give Katie the room she needed to be herself.

12. Que l'amour était un choix que l'on faisait consciemment chaque jour et qu'il faillait continuer à s'acharner pour le mériter.

That love was a choice we continued making every day, and we had to keep working to make sure we deserved it.

13. chaque jour une nouvelle libération – each day a brand new liberation

14. Avec elle je suis vivante et je n'ai pas peur du combat.

With her I am alive, and I am not afraid of the fight.


End file.
